Only a Horse
by Sabari
Summary: Joe and Candy get more than they bargained for when they pick up an expensive horse for a friend of Ben's.
1. Firebrand

_"Man is not man, but a wolf to those he does not know."  
-Plautus_

* * *

It was a clear day, one of those days where it just seems like the world is perfect and everything in it is wonderful and fine. Joseph Cartwright was feeling good. He'd completed a lengthy cattle drive along with a few drovers, most of whom were temporary and flaked off when they arrived in town. The exception was Candy, who -in addition to being a good cowhand- was Joe's friend and an unofficially permanent fixture around the Ponderosa and Cartwright clan.

Joe and Candy had had their fun in town, gotten clean, had some drinks, talked up some pretty girls. Candy had played a few hands of cards in the saloon with some drifters while Joe concluded the transaction with the cattle buyer.

Now they were on their way back, Joe carrying the cash from the sale of the cattle. It was a lot of money, but Joe wasn't worried. He'd carried money before, and he knew how to handle it. It might've been nice to have more than just Candy along, but Joe had sometimes headed back to the Ponderosa entirely alone. His father had taught him and his brothers how to handle themselves. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to ride.

They had one stop to make on the way back, in the little town of Redton. A friend of Ben Cartwright's, David Beckett, had purchased a horse sight unseen. When he'd mentioned to Ben where he was to pick up the horse and when, Ben had told him that Joe was heading that way at that time anyway, and might as well pick up the horse on his way back. The horse was already bought and paid for, it was just a matter of taking over the charge of him.

Joe anticipated no problems with that. Candy tended to have hard luck with horses, but Joe could manage almost any bronc, and this one didn't come with any known issues. Of course, it being a horse none of them had ever seen, Joe knew it could be anything from a nag to a mustang. Mr. Beckett seemed confident of his buy, and Joe had no reason to doubt the man's knowledge of the matter. In any case, there wasn't any reason to be too concerned, especially not before he'd actually seen the horse. And especially not on a beautiful day like today.

Joe's pinto chomped at the bit in his mouth and bobbed his head eagerly. It had been a long, slow trip. The little horse didn't mind hard work, but he was also a high spirited animal and liked to stretch his legs. Seeing as there was no work today, and probably egged on by the cooling breeze stirring his mane, Cochise wanted to have a bit of a run. He was asking, never demanding, for the pinto never fought Joe, but he was eager to go.

Seeing the land ahead was fairly clear and reasonably flat, Joe acquiesced to his horse's request. Giving the horse a little kick in the sides and offering him more rein, Joe let Cochise move from his easy trot to a faster gait. The horse tucked in his hindquarters and launched himself forward like he'd been shot. Cochise tended to think an easy shift from one gait to another was overrated, as many cow ponies did.

Joe saw Candy's horse toss his head. Candy reined the horse in. The red chestnut would follow any horse that moved if he was allowed to. He wasn't a willful animal, he just wanted to go along with the flow and be with the herd so much that sometimes he was a bit of a handful to keep still if other horses ran past him. Evidently Candy wasn't feeling like a gallop because he didn't chase after Joe. Joe didn't look back to see what he did, instead he focused on his riding.

Joe had spent so much of his life on horseback, and so many years on this particular horse, that he didn't think about it anymore. He just settled into the correct position, and did his best to become one with the horse as it galloped. Cochise had a short, rather sharp stride that could take a rider off-guard and throw him, but Joe didn't even feel it and moved with Cochise just so; to his mind the horse had the smoothest gait of any animal he'd ever ridden.

Cochise didn't move into a full gallop. Without urging from his rider, he would never go so fast that he couldn't test his footing. The horse was as sure-footed as a goat, and always steady under fire. Now on unfamiliar ground, he would not exceed the safety of a swift canter unless Joe forced him. Joe had no intention of forcing his mount to do anything, not on a day like today. A canter was plenty fast enough, Cochise could cover a lot of ground with that funny stride of his.

Joe let himself fall into the horse's rhythm, the feel of the wind on his face, the smell of dirt and dry grass kicking past him barely noticeable. But he didn't let himself fall too far into the trance of riding, he kept alert, watchful and wary of any place he didn't know well, especially when carrying money.

Cochise crossed the flat stretch in a thunder of hoof beats, and bounded up a ridge without slowing down, though Joe felt clearly the shift in the horse's power as he shifted his own position to help Cochise uphill. At the crest, Joe pulled him in. Cochise tossed his head and played with the bit, not ready to stop, but he obeyed. He danced a jig for a moment until Joe slid a hand along his satiny neck, stroking and soothing him. The pinto settled down, and Joe looked back.

Candy was taking it slow, letting his horse trot along at an easy pace, picking his way through the low brush. The horse was a fine animal, but nowhere near as confident on this terrain as Cochise was. It might have been owner's pride, but Joe knew he had the better horse.

Cochise half-reared, not unexpectedly. The horse was as impatient to go on as Joe was, he didn't want to be standing still. Joe knew he'd quiet down once they were traveling the trail easy-like. He also knew that Cochise wanted to get home to his barn and his good feed. He'd be disappointed to stop in Redton.

After a seeming eternity, Candy caught up. He seemed wholly unconcerned with the pinto's impatience, and in no great hurry to get much of any place. Candy never hurried his horse if he didn't have a need to, in fact actively avoided ever going faster than necessary. He knew only too well the value of a fresh horse. Joe knew what it was like to have a horse break down, or have it shot from under you, but he couldn't help wanting to go fast sometimes.

Of course, Joe knew Cochise could take it. The horse could outdistance any animal in a flat sprint, even if he couldn't overtake them before they broke their wind. Cochise was fast, but Joe knew well enough that a racing horse was faster still. Not something he'd ever had to worry about though, and a racing horse couldn't cover wild ground the way Cochise could, nor go as long as the little pinto.

"You know, sometimes I think you indulge that horse too much," Candy remarked with a grin as he pulled his horse to a stop near Joe, "Other times... I'm sure of it."

"At least my horse has a name," Joe responded.

"My horse has a name," Candy said, though it was unclear if his tone was amused or defensive.

"Oh yeah, then what is it?" Joe inquired.

Candy just grinned and clucked to his mount to move along. The chestnut did so reluctantly, not wanting to leave the horse he'd just reached. Joe shook his head, turned Cochise around and hurried to catch up. Once he pulled even with Candy, he slowed Cochise down and the horse instantly understood to match with the other animal. He had to take about a stride and a half for every one of the chestnut's, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"So what kind of horse is it that we're supposed to be picking up anyway?" Candy asked after a time.

Joe shrugged, "An expensive one."

"Oh good," Candy said brightly, "'cause it's not risky enough you carryin' all that money around. We need us an expensive horse too," his ever-present grin betrayed his sarcasm.

"You know, if you're worried, you can always quit."

"You know me, Joe," Candy responded, "I'm never worried. Too much work in bein' worried. If I worried, I'd have to ask for a pay raise."

"And Pa'd tell you that you're already being paid fairly," Joe said.

" _Exactly_. That's why," here he paused for humorous or dramatic effect, "I don't worry."

Joe laughed at this, and Candy laughed along with him.

Riding along like this, it was easy to forget how the two of them had first met. Candy had strolled into a guarded camp at night like it was nothing, answering in an easy and off-hand kind of way the questions put to him, all in order to secure for himself a can of peaches. He'd seemed confident and relaxed, but Joe had learned since to read the ranch hand, whose mercurial temperament could change in a flash. Candy could go from friend to foe in a moment, and Joe had seen firsthand how violent the man could get if sufficiently provoked.

But something about that first meeting had inspired confidence in Joe. He trusted Candy, probably because he and Candy had worked the point position together. Candy was a superior scout and point man. Though he could be sneaky and even dishonest when the need arose, Candy was reliable and trustworthy with those who had earned his loyalty. Those people were few, but Joe's father was one of them. By proxy, Joe and Hoss were as well. Over time, an easy friendship had sprung up. Candy wasn't hard to get along with, once you knew you could trust him.

Candy was the sort of man you wanted on your side. You didn't want him working against you, and you especially didn't want him angry. He was too clever, too quick, too tricky, and entirely too deadly. These were traits Joe recognized, and understood, because he shared at least some of them.

Rather unlike Joe, Candy was ever ready to pick up new skills. Joe had been born to the land of horses, cattle and sometimes logging, it was all he'd ever really known from the time he was small and he was interested in little else. For Candy, most of it was new. He gave the impression that he'd been a little of everywhere, done a little of everything; he learned quickly enough, but there had at first been a bit of a rough patch. Candy had no cow sense at all to begin with.

Joe had said it. Hoss had said it. But Ben had told them to have a little patience. Their pa was right, as always, and Candy got the hang of it.

The country was mighty pretty, and there wasn't a threat in sight. Though both men kept an eye out, there was nothing to do but relax into the ride and enjoy it. Candy was also capable of riding in companionable silence, which was what the two of them did for the next couple of hours.

From time to time, one of them would say something, the other would respond, and then they would wax silent once more. When you were on the trail for a long time, you learned not to exhaust your topics of conversation all at once, but to take your sweet time considering and pondering and letting your thoughts do a bit of wandering until you found something worthwhile to say.

You also learned to keep your mouth shut just to conserve water if need be, and to avoid eating more trail dust than you had to. During such times, it was easy to get along with most people. Joe found that, in the quiet of the trail, he grew to judge a man by how he sat on a horse. Not just by his overall horsemanship, but how he sat in the saddle, how gentle or rough he treated his mount.

Candy wasn't the best horseman Joe had seen by a long shot, but he was generally kind to his horse, and didn't yank at the bit even when the big animal tried to take off and join with other horses he saw in the distance. He just turned the horse in a circle until the horse began to pay attention to him again. Though he joked about Joe indulging or spoiling his horse (which he did), Candy could be caught stroking his own horse not only to soothe it, but just to sort of pass the time. And the chestnut hadn't learned to reach out and sniff his pockets searching for handkerchiefs.

It was these quiet things he did, when he didn't know anybody was paying attention, that said most about him to Joe. A lot of men rode their horses like they were machines, treated them roughly and then got rid of them when they couldn't do their work anymore. Joe knew it was normal, a lot of people did it. But he always felt greater respect for the man who would take the time to have affection for his horse, to realize the horse was putting in a lot of work for him and deserved a little consideration, and who would put in effort to make sure his horse stayed sound.

Even when a horse had once stepped on his hand, Candy hadn't taken it out on the horse. Most men might've smacked the horse in the side or cursed it or later held a grudge, Candy seemed to take it pretty much as a matter of course. He'd known the horse was grumpy when he'd approached it, and seemed to think he'd gotten what he'd deserved for his trouble. Joe figured that moment and the events surrounding it might've been when he'd decided that he and Candy could be friends.

Eventually, Joe's thoughts turned to recollecting the drive out here. It had been a pretty long haul for cattle driving. Moving cattle was a slow business, because the animals just didn't go fast, often strayed, had to stop and eat and drink, which sometimes forced you to take a longer route to serve their needs, and of course both riders and horses had to do far more work driving cattle than they would if they'd merely been riding along the trail. You had to be constantly alert to the cattle, to the other drovers and to the country around you. A some of the hands Joe had worked with this time might be back eventually, some others had been merely stopping at the Ponderosa to make some money and then shove off. Cow hands came and went, especially on a spread the size of the Ponderosa.

Joe wouldn't be sad to see a couple of the men go for good.

One of them had been a continual thorn in Joe's side because he drank on the trail, which wouldn't have been so bad if he weren't a noisy drunk that riled up the cattle. Another had the misfortune of being physically incapable of taking any even mildly negative remark about himself without a fight. He and Candy had been at each other's throats for most of the drive, either because Candy couldn't keep his jokes to himself or because he stepped in when one of the other drovers couldn't keep his mouth shut; Joe was never sure which in the aftermath, but he was glad to see the man go either way.

Some of the others had only proven inconvenient when they got to town. Far as Joe and his family were concerned, if a man brought hired men into town, he was at least a little responsible for how much of it they tore up, and some of the drovers had done a little more celebrating than Joe wanted to pay for. He'd paid them their wages and sent them on their way. There wasn't anything else to do. They'd done the work for which they were hired, but Joe wanted nothing further to do with them.

Joe liked to have a good celebration as much as the next man, but he didn't like breaking store windows or bar stools or beer mugs, and he certainly didn't like harassing the locals. He liked a nice bar girl, but he understood the job they did and would never have considered trying to take advantage of them just because they were paid to cozy up to paying customers. There were certain rules of etiquette that deserved to be followed, even if you were in a two-bit bar in a two-bit town.

Of course, Candy got himself into his share of trouble, but that was different. For one, the trouble was nearly always to do with the gambling table. For two, Candy didn't go looking for trouble, it just seemed to naturally find him and he tended to meet it like a bull in a China shop. For three, Joe knew that Candy would repay any kindness from his employer with loyalty the likes of which money couldn't buy, and therefore deserved a bit of special dispensation. At times, he'd repaid his debts with blood, sometimes his own.

Once he exhausted the possibilities of thinking about the drovers, Joe turned his thoughts towards Redton and the horse they were going to get. He'd been near Redton before, but never had occasion to actually visit the place. It was a small town, and there had never been anything for him to go for. Now he was going for a horse, and he didn't even really know what kind of horse it was to be.

He remembered well the last time he was sent off to get someone else's horse. Candy had tagged along for that one too, and it hadn't gone very well for him. The horse had been a big black, a devil to rope and impossible to ride. But the horse had a peculiar talent for rounding up other horses, including wild ones. A horse like that could be worth his weight in gold, and was worth more to the man who owned him now. That man's dreams had all been tied up in that horse, and the horse had seemed to know it.

Joe didn't expect to see the likes of that one again. Even though the horse had been difficult to handle, Joe had seen he was beautiful, though not enough for the price. It wasn't until he learned of the horse's skill that he understood. He'd learned not to judge a horse based on his conformation or his attitude. A horse could have hidden value just like a man could. Especially if you hadn't met him.

Joe honestly didn't know what to expect.

* * *

The ride to Redton was uneventful. They arrived early, and hung around in the only saloon in town until the man they were to meet showed up. Joe noted him as not particularly friendly, and seemingly in a hurry to transfer custody of the horse. As soon as he found them, he hurried them out of the saloon. It was a short ride out of town to the small spread where he and his partner had been keeping the horse.

It was here that Joe met the man's partner, who seemed just as eager to be rid of the horse as the first man. Joe began to feel uneasy about this horse, sensing trouble in the way the men sort of talked over each other to hurry the process along.

They found the animal pacing in a corral.

"He ain't much to look at, I know," said one of the men.

"But worth every cent paid, I'm sure," the other supplied, as though he was worried that Joe and Candy might just ride out without the horse, even though he was paid for.

Despite what the men said, Joe saw instantly the value of the horse. He was a stallion, and stood a little over sixteen hands; a dark bay, almost black except around the sides and shoulders, where his red undertones showed through clearly. He had no white markings on him. If he'd been standing still, the horse would have appeared heavy, almost clumsy, with a short back, deep chest and high withers making his legs look shorter than they were. But when he moved, those pieces fit together to make an animal with a long, easy stride. This stallion, Joe's horse sense told him, was fast. _Very_ fast.

But Joe could also see him from the perspective of a cowboy. This animal lacked the hindquarters of a good cow pony, the way he carried his head high and reacted to every sound suggested a horse that couldn't deal with the rugged ways of the wilderness. This was a horse who'd probably never seen a cow up close, and that was unusual in the west. Joe wondered just how far this animal had been shipped before he got to Redton. There was something about the way he moved that fairly radiated a sort of defiance, and Joe suspected the horse would be a handful after all.

Coming to a slow stop, the stallion stood with his head high, neck arched, tail slightly raised. He was pretty as a picture, but there was a fierce look in his eye that reminded Joe of the name with which he had come: Firebrand.

Joe glanced at Candy, who looked uneasy; clearly he too remembered the last time he was sent to fetch another man's horse. That black had made a fool of him.

"I'll get him," Joe said before the hand gathered himself to do so.

"You do that," said one of the men who'd been dealing with the horse up to now.

Joe didn't much care for the man's tone. He went to his saddle and took the lariat from it. He went into the corral cautiously, his eyes on Firebrand, who stood still now. Long necked, lean bodied, heavier fore than aft, the stallion's every line bespoke of the speed Joe knew he must be capable of. He knew he must be careful never to lose hold of this horse, or like as not he'd never get him back.

Firebrand surprised him. Instead of shying away or bolting as he'd expected, the horse stood as still as glass, his nostrils slightly flared to take in the scent of the approaching man, one ear tilted to listen. A shiver ran across the stallion's smooth skin, but it might've been a fly, nothing more. Joe began to feel a bit silly using a rope on a horse that seemed perfectly possible to halter.

To his annoyance, though the horse was still, the high way he held his head made it impossible to simply slip the rope onto him. Joe had to toss it to get it over the animal's head. Joe wasn't sensitive about his height (or lack thereof), but it could be a nuisance at times. But this wasn't the first time Joe had been forced to toss a rope another man could just have slid over something, and he did it easily.

When the rope tightened, he prepared for the horse to buck or bolt, but Firebrand merely stood still for a long second, letting the tension on the rope increase, then abruptly deciding to follow Joe towards the gate, as peaceful as a lamb. But the high head, far forward ears, still flared nostrils and most of all the fire in his dark eyes kept Joe wary. This horse might be quiet now, but he was a powder keg waiting to go off. Joe didn't want to do anything that might rankle him, and so took his time leading the horse from the corral.

Firebrand stayed peaceful while Joe led him over to where Candy was waiting with the other horses. Candy hadn't bothered to dismount when Joe decided to take over. He took the rope from Joe so that he could conclude business with the other two men. Joe and Candy had exchanged a look, they both expected the horse to do something when he changed hands. But he didn't.

It wasn't until Joe turned his back that the stallion suddenly shifted moods. With a squeal, Firebrand suddenly lunged forward, nearly taking the rope from Candy's hand. Joe turned in time to see the stallion strike out with both forelegs. Candy hadn't given the horse enough rope to reach Joe, and the stallion turned his frustration towards the ranch hand.

Firebrand attempted to rear up, but he didn't have enough rope to do so. Instead, he whirled and slammed his chest into the shoulder of Candy's mount. The chestnut neighed a protest, started to brace himself against the onslaught, then instead turned at his rider's behest. Firebrand went for the hand of the man that held him, but the chestnut turned and swung his hindquarters into the stallion's way, thwarting the attack. Candy had immediately picked up that Firebrand was after him, not his horse, and he could therefore use his mount as a shield.

The attack was over as suddenly as it had begun. His opportunity lost, Firebrand's ears came forward and he snorted, tossing his head. He pawed with his foreleg at the ground, as though pretending that was all he had intended from the start. Candy continued to keep the back of his chestnut between himself and the rogue stallion.

"Well this'll be fun," Candy remarked sourly.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** ** _ ** _This story is completely written. I will be uploading one chapter per day. It is potentially slightly AU, but not on purpose. It does not especially matter, but the story was intended to be set in season 9, prior to the episode "To Die in Darkness" (and therefore also prior to "Salute to Yesterday"), though in my stupor at times I may have forgotten the order in which episodes occurred and may therefore have made references to episodes which technically had not happened yet. I was thoroughly incompetent and wholly irresponsible in my writing. You may consider yourself warned.  
_**_**

 ** _ ** _This story_**_** ** _was written in a frenzied two week period, during which I was nursing a nearly dead cat (he survived and is well now, by the way), and surviving on only a few hours of sleep a night and a regular infusion of extremely unhealthy caffeine. Such is not my usual habit, and I would not be at all surprised to find my writing suffered for it. This story came forth without prior plot or plan, and its writing was a way of gritting my teeth and continuing on even when the going got rough. If it is worth nothing at all to read, it was worthwhile to write, and perhaps you shall find you enjoy it. Perhaps you will merely be reminded as a writer that one must be legally conscious and have some basic concept of what they intend for a story to say and where they wish it to go in order to do well. If that is all you take with you when you have finished, I will be content with that._**


	2. Intent to Kill

"The least they coulda done is warn us not to turn our backs on him," Candy grumbled.

"They were eager to be rid of him," Joe returned, "They were probably afraid we wouldn't take him if we'd known. Once I had a rope on him, he became my problem and they knew it."

Firebrand had gone for Joe again when they left, but this time Candy had been better prepared to bring him up short. Between them, they'd made the rope into a makeshift halter so they could control the horse's head. Firebrand had stood quietly for that, and then gone for Joe as he was moving away.

Now he walked with his nose snugged near the saddle of Candy's horse, preventing him from rearing or lashing out in any meaningful way. Joe didn't like transporting a horse that way, and he could see Candy wasn't exactly thrilled about it either, but they both kind of figured they could give Firebrand some more rope once they'd been underway for awhile. Maybe the horse just didn't like strangers, or needed some exercise to settle him out. Joe had known horses that were mean as rattlesnakes in the morning, but once they got out on the trail they were sweet as sugar. Yes, he'd met a lot of horses with quirks. But he'd also met killers, and his every instinct screamed that this horse was one of the latter.

The ride went quietly enough for awhile, until they stopped for lunch. It was trail rations, because that's what they had. They let the horses graze and rest for a bit, and Firebrand seemed to be quiet for now. He stuck close to Candy's horse, evidently having grown used to him on the trail. Cochise was indifferent to them both, interested in seeing if Joe had any snacks worth trying to get a share of.

The afternoon was heating up, so Joe decided they should hang out in the shade of the trees until the heat of the day abated somewhat. Candy took this as an opportunity to inspect his pistol and then the saddlebags, checking for wear. Joe took the opportunity to try and win Firebrand over.

If he could get the horse to like him, it would make the trip home much easier on everyone.

"You'd have more luck makin' friends with a rattlesnake," was Candy's matter-of-fact observation.

"Yeah, maybe," Joe replied, "But I met a man once who had a pet rattlesnake, so I imagine this horse can be won over too."

"Suit yourself," Candy shrugged, "Me, I want no part of him."

As before, the horse stood still at Joe's approach. When Joe tugged at his halter, he obediently -if reluctantly- bent his head until it was in reach. Joe worked cautiously, but not fearfully. He knew the worst the horse could do to him, and he'd been both bitten and kicked before. He knew the horse might even be able to kill him. But you couldn't make friends with a horse if you were afraid of him.

Carefully, Joe felt out the stallion, finding the spots on his head that he seemed particularly fond of. Firebrand seemed to like his muzzle being rubbed, and the underside of his jaw behind the whiskers. When Joe found a spot below the horse's right eye, Firebrand sighed and relaxed. Joe petted the horse a bit more, then decided not to overdo it. He'd made a positive connection with the horse, best leave it at that before he overstayed his welcome and taxed the hot blooded animal's patience.

This time he didn't turn his back, but instead moved away while still facing the horse.

It didn't make any difference. The moment Joe moved away, the stallion's demeanor shifted. Whistling as though he were challenging another stallion, Firebrand came forward, ears laid back, teeth showing. He half-reared and struck with his forelegs. Joe knew he hadn't the time to get clear, so he did the only thing he could. He dropped and rolled. He didn't roll in a random direction, he went right under Cochise, with Firebrand coming at him. There weren't many horses Joe would try to roll under for any reason, because he could too easily startle them and cause them to kick. But he had faith that Cochise wouldn't do that. His trust was well placed, for Cochise only shifted and started to back up.

Joe was on the other side of the little pinto before the animal started to move. Firebrand had followed right behind him. He pulled up at the obstacle of Cochise, then tried to get around him. Seeing the big bay with the laid back ears and aggressive body language, Cochise did the sensible thing: When the bay circled around behind him, Cochise gathered up his hindquarters and then kicked. His pale hooves connected with the lower part of Firebrand's shoulder, sending the larger horse staggering.

Shocked and confused, Firebrand broke off his attack and moved away from the pinto. He retreated all the way over to where Candy's chestnut stood impassively, and took shelter behind the other horse. Cochise didn't go after him; he wasn't the malicious kind and he was well used to handling the temper of stallions on long drives. The Ponderosa wasn't a horse ranch, but they had their share of equines and sometimes did some selling or buying. Cochise was used to other horses, even ones with bad attitudes. He'd sent the bigger horse packing, nothing more. He bore the bay no ill will and in fact seemed inclined to forget the incident entirely.

Cochise nickered and reached for Joe with his muzzle, checking his pockets for snacks. Joe pushed him off and got up, shaking the dust from his jacket.

"That went well," Candy remarked dryly, "So... uh... when does this 'winning him over' start happening?"

Joe just glared at him, for once in no mood for Candy's humor. It had been such a nice day, things had all been going fine, and now this sour horse had to go and ruin it. But Joe was more than angry, he was confused. He couldn't understand why Firebrand would act as he did. The behavior didn't make any sense. Joe wasn't used to being puzzled by horses.

Joe walked away from the horses and sat down next to Candy. Despite his evident flippancy, at close range it was clear that Candy was tense. There hadn't been time for him to do anything when Firebrand attacked, so he'd just sat motionless and watched, the same way Joe had when the horse went after Candy before. But it was evident in his aspect, and especially his eyes, that he was far from being as relaxed and indifferent as he sounded.

"I don't get it," Joe sighed, "He's got no reason to go after me. None at all."

"That horse doesn't know reason," Candy returned in a deceptively mild tone, "All he knows is that he hates us."

"He must know _some_ reason if he's looking for an opportunity to kill us," Joe said, "I just can't figure what he's thinking or what sets him off."

"Us," Candy replied, "And what he's thinking is that he wants us dead."

"Yeah... yeah maybe," Joe said thoughtfully, then lapsed into unhappy silence.

* * *

Frank and Cliff Buckley had spent most of their short lives immersed in violence and dishonest occupations. Frank's specialty was cheating at poker, while Cliff had a way of conning people into letting him into their homes so he could take their valuables. Individually they were trouble, but together they were a menace to society. They tended to lose whatever money they made and it was their habit to always look for easy money. In addition to his card talents, Frank had an eye for horseflesh.

Cliff didn't see much in the bay horse they'd spotted in a town a few days prior, but Frank did.

"You gotta look past the color," Frank said, "See, that horse could run any cow pony into the ground. He's a piece of lightning on four legs, Cliff. If we had him, we'd never have to worry about money again, not with all he'd be worth. Not just a racer neither, but a sire. He'd make us rich."

"One horse?" Cliff asked dubiously, knowing his brother tended to blow the value of horses all out of proportion.

" _That_ horse," Frank confirmed, "We just have to get him."

It never occurred to either of them to try and buy the horse, obviously they were going to steal it. What they hadn't reckoned on was that the horse changed hands and kept on moving. Cliff, the better tracker, had followed the horse's distinctive hoof prints. Frank and Cliff knew well the price of horse stealing, but they were accustomed to getting away with capers, and didn't anticipate any difficulties. That is, until Frank recognized one of the two men escorting the horse.

"Get down!" he hissed.

They'd left their horses back aways so as not to attract the interest of the other men's horses. They were still some distance from the shady spot where the two men seemed to be camped. They'd been moving stealthy like, but Frank evidently thought it wasn't enough for he grabbed his brother's arm and practically yanked him flat against the ground.

"What?" Cliff asked.

"The guy in the black vest," Frank said.

"What about him?" Cliff wanted to know.

"I've met him before, an' he's trouble," Frank explained, "An expert scout, that one. He'll see us coming from any distance if we're not smart. And what's more, he'll kill us if he catches us."

"Why would he do that?" Cliff asked.

"I cheated at cards with him once," Frank said, "That one looks and acts like a sheep, but underneath it he's pure wolf. He was plenty mad when he caught me cheating, and I'm sure he'd've killed me if we hadn't been in a saloon with witnesses. Fights like The Devil himself too."

"Maybe we should rethink this then," Cliff suggested.

"No way. We need that horse. We get him and we're set for life. The Wolf just makes things a bit more difficult is all."

Frank would later have time to reflect on -and to regret- this foolish decision.

* * *

Neither Candy nor Joe noticed the two men, who were far back and uphill from their position. Cochise may have noticed, but he didn't care. Firebrand, head raised and nostrils wide, caught the scent of the strangers. Joe and Candy didn't know why Firebrand abruptly began to paw at the ground, nor why he suddenly laid his ears back. They assumed it was just another display of unpredictable temper on his part.

When the air began to cool again, they mounted up and continued on their way. Joe had Firebrand's lead rope this time, or he did briefly, until it became evident that the bay was shy of getting near the pinto's hindquarters. Joe didn't trust him with more lead, so he passed custody of Firebrand back to a reluctant Candy. With the chestnut between him and Cochise, Firebrand settled down again.

The ease of the morning was long gone, Firebrand had seen to that. Even though it was Candy who had to do the leading, Joe was still tense, wondering when the horse might strike out again. He knew it was coming, but once again failed to see when.

After they'd been riding awhile, Candy gave Firebrand a little more lead to work with so his nose wasn't quite plastered to the chestnut's flank. Joe anticipated trouble, but of course it didn't come. Candy may have anticipated it as well, seeing as he kept a firmer hand on his horse's reins, prepared to turn him suddenly at the slightest provocation from Firebrand. But Firebrand went along peacefully. His head had come down a bit from before, and his nostrils were no longer wide. That look was still in his eyes though, bright and alert and ready for action.

"Better not drop your guard, Candy, or that horse'll have you for dinner," Joe advised.

"Yeah, don't I know it," Candy said.

The long trail ride assured that they would inevitably do just that sooner or later. Even though they'd had a bit of a break after the cattle drive, it hadn't exactly been a long rest and Joe found he could never be fully at ease unless he was at home. The two of them were tired, and a full day's ride dulled their senses. One of them was bound to make a mistake.

That mistake came when they crested a ridge and stopped to take in the lay of the land ahead before moving on. It was habitual for both of them. Whenever they had a view, they took it in. It wasn't a matter of appreciating the scenery, but one of survival. High places were good spots to look for potential trouble before it could find you and take you unawares. Unfortunately, stopping allowed Firebrand to take advantage of the extra lead he had.

He had been following along passively a little behind Candy's horse. When they stopped, he took the lead he had and ran with it. He took another run at Joe, seemingly harboring a senseless kind of animosity towards him. Firebrand reared high and lashed out with his forelegs, but for what seemed the hundredth time he didn't get too far.

Firebrand's charge caused Candy's horse to shy. At the same time, Joe caught the motion in the corner of his eye and nudged Cochise away from it. Cochise's hindquarters swung around and Firebrand's hooves came down soundly on his rump. Cochise squealed in pain and kicked, his rear hooves thudding into the side of the bay. The kick wasn't solid, because even as he came down to earth, Firebrand was yanked to the side by the lead rope. The slack had been taken up by the shying of Candy's horse, and Firebrand was pulled off balance. He stumbled and nearly toppled while Candy struggled to settle out the alarmed chestnut.

In the meantime, Joe was urging Cochise away from the conflict. Once he'd put enough distance between them for safety, he was off the pinto's back in a flash. He wasted no time examining Cochise's back where Firebrand had hit him. There was no blood, no skin broken, but Cochise squeaked a protest and shifted away from Joe's hands when he touched the area. Joe was furious that his horse had been hurt. If Firebrand had kicked Joe himself, he wouldn't have been more angry.

Looking over at Candy, Joe saw the fight hadn't gone out of Firebrand this time. The bay was trying to have a go at Candy, who was doing his best to keep his horse maneuvered into the way. Firebrand's teeth snapped at the air, but Candy kept his horse going and the line taut, so Firebrand could not rear up again. The two horses continued to move around each other for several minutes until Firebrand finally gave it up and Candy took away his extra lead. Only then did the ranch hand finally get to check on Joe.

"You okay?" Candy asked.

"Yeah, but Cochise took a beating," Joe replied.

"I knew I heard a thud," Candy said, "I was just hoping it wasn't you."

"It wasn't," Joe reassured him, "Now keep a good hold on that horse."

Hearing the anger in Joe's voice, Candy looked nervous, but did as he was told.

He needn't have worried. Joe didn't take his temper out on horses, his pa would've had his hide if he ever did. He was furious with Firebrand, but he wasn't about to hurt him. Not only was it against his raising to take rage out on an animal, this animal wasn't even his and he couldn't risk the horse coming to harm. Even more than his care of animals, Joe had been taught how to take proper responsibility for things belonging to someone else. No, his reason now was to examine Firebrand's side where Cochise had hit him to make sure no harm had been done.

The first time Cochise kicked Firebrand, Joe hadn't been worried. Cochise always offered a warning kick before he got serious. But this was Firebrand's second offense, and this time he'd hurt Cochise. Joe didn't bother moving slow or cautious-like this time. One thing he now understood was that Firebrand would allow him to approach and handle him. He still didn't know what set the horse off, but that wasn't it. Sure enough, Firebrand stood stock still while Joe examined him.

Despite the fact that this horse had hurt his beloved pinto, Joe found his anger dissipating rapidly when he stroked the stallion's sleek coat. He couldn't help it, horses relaxed him. He continued to stroke Firebrand even after he'd finished examining him, and spoke to the horse in warm, friendly tones. A lifetime of experience drove him to it without his even thinking about it. He knew that one of the best ways to make a horse like you was to make each and every experience a positive one if you could. Sooner or later you wouldn't be able to, but if you built up an expectation of good things, a relationship of trust, your horse would be that much more likely to stand by you when something bad inevitably happened. Eventually he stepped back from the bay.

Firebrand didn't make any attempt to do anything this time, but Joe supposed it was because Candy had a good hold on his head so he couldn't go anywhere. The next time they dropped their guard, Joe expected the horse to try and kill them again.

It was going to be a long ride home.

* * *

That night, they discovered another problem with Firebrand. Instead of settling down to sleep after a long day's ride, Firebrand shuffled his feet, lifted his head, and began to contact call. He received no answer, but continued to neigh as if there was a horse somewhere out there that he needed to talk to.

Even if Firebrand hadn't been doing that, Joe wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. He knew they'd never get home with him walking Cochise, but he hated putting his weight on his injured pinto. He'd ridden for a short while, but the little horse's stride was off, and so he dismounted and walked. Firebrand had taken a couple of strikes at him before they camped for the night as a result.

"There's another town up ahead," Joe said, "You ride on ahead in the morning and see if you can rent me a horse."

"And leave you here with that beast?" Candy inquired, nodding at Firebrand.

"You can't very well take him into town with you," Joe replied, "Just leave him tied up and I'll let him alone until you get back."

"Well... alright," Candy said moodily, "But if you're dead when I get back, I'm going to say I told you this was a bad idea."

"Don't worry about me," Joe said, "No horse alive has killed me yet."

Candy snorted at this, and they spoke no more of the matter.

Joe spent a lot of the night worrying over Cochise, unconscious of the fact that he showed a lot more concern for his little horse than he ever did for himself. Cochise, for his part, took it like the good horse he was. Calmly, he withstood the ministrations that Joe had to offer, and made no complaint when a sore spot was touched except to shift his weight and lean away. Firebrand watched Joe's every move intently, but the man never came close enough to give the tied horse another go at him.

Candy made a go of sleeping, but Firebrand had a way of being quiet just long enough for him to almost doze off before neighing loudly at the night for no apparent reason. Even had Firebrand done nothing else, robbing him of sleep was enough to make Candy thoroughly dislike the horse. When a man works hard for long hours, there are two things which become more precious to him than any amount of gold: food and sleep.

Firebrand neighed, snorted, and pawed at the ground, then neighed some more. Eventually even the other horses got tired of him. Cochise snorted irritably, and then took a nip at him, but Firebrand merely shied away as much as his lead would allow and continued with his noise.

He kept at it through the night, as if he didn't need sleep or rest.

By dawn, Candy gave up the delusion of sleep entirely. He saddled his horse, checked the tie on Firebrand, gave Joe a warning look suggesting he should keep away from the stallion, and rode off.

* * *

"Hey, hey! Frank, wake up!" Cliff shook his brother, "Wake up!"

"Eh? What?" Frank mumbled.

"That one you was worried about, The Wolf, he just rode out. The other one's alone now."

Frank, still half-asleep, muttered a groggy, "So what?"

"Frank!" Cliff shook his brother again, keeping his voice low but urgent, "The horse! The horse is still there!"

That got Frank up. He scrambled to his feet, and together the two of them scurried over to the ridge and peered over it. Sure enough, only one man was still there, and so was the beautiful bay stallion.

The man was messing with the pinto, worrying over a spot on the animal's rump for some cause or another. He had his back to where the brothers were watching from. But the bay didn't.

Neck arched, head high, the stallion seemed to be looking right at them. He flared his nostrils and bugled in the early morning chill. Frank knew it was because of their horses. The stallion could smell them. They should have been far enough away not to interest him, they certainly didn't seem to interest the little pinto the man was fussing with.

"Ain't he a beauty?" Frank whispered to Cliff, "There ain't never been a horse like him."

"Yeah, sure, Frank," Cliff replied mildly.

"Now's our chance," Frank said, "We can handle one man easy enough, and might as well get two horses out of the bargain."

"The pinto too?" Cliff asked, "Why?"

"Why not?" Frank replied, "They can't hang us twice."

Cliff cocked his head and thought it over, then nodded, "Yeah, I s'pose you're right at that."

"'course I'm right," Frank said, "Now c'mon, we got horses to steal."


	3. Stolen!

Candy was testy that morning. He didn't much care for not having slept, but more than that it irked him that he hadn't kept Firebrand under better control. He knew only too well that it was only the barest luck that had led to the stallion striking the pinto instead of Joe. With the damage he'd done to the other horse, it was quite likely he would have killed Joe if he'd hit him. Candy also knew a thing or two about Cartwright pride, and in particular Joe's, and he knew that crazy horse had wounded Joe's pride badly. He just hoped Joe had more sense than to do anything stupid while he was alone.

The last thing Candy wanted to do was to have to return to the Ponderosa and explain to Mr. Cartwright how Joe had been killed by a horse Candy had been leading. Joe was a grown man, able to take care of himself just fine, but he was still Cartwright's boy. Candy knew Mr. Cartwright as a fair man, but he didn't know what would happen to that fairness if his youngest was killed when Candy should've been looking out for him. It was perhaps a bit selfish, but even in addition to the horror that the death of a friend would be, Candy wondered if Mr. Cartwright would believe him. It was a ridiculous worry of his at this point, but he always doubted Mr. Cartwright's trust in him, and he didn't want to lose the man's respect.

And so he was in a bad temper by the time he rode into town. He managed to keep it to himself, and bit his tongue at the price the horse rental man quoted to him. He felt like he could've bought a horse cheaper, but he didn't say so. He also thought the beat-up nag which was rented to him was a joke, but he didn't say that either, just paid the price, took the horse and rode out.

Irritable, distracted and trying not to take it out on the lazy rental horse, Candy wasn't as alert as he should've been, and was a lot closer to the camp site than he ought to have been before he noticed something amiss. The instant he did, he was off his horse and on the ground, with his gun out of its holster, looking for the cause of what he saw.

For several tense moments, he surveyed the land, until he was satisfied that whoever had been here had already come and gone. Only then did he slowly get up off the dusty ground, still wary but knowing he couldn't just stay in hiding. Candy saw that Joe was down, the horses gone. Once satisfied that whoever had done it was gone, the question became whether or not Joe had survived it.

"Joe?" Candy spoke the name inquiringly, as he began to examine Joe to see where he was hurt, "Joe, what happened?"

Joe didn't respond to him, at least not in words. He mumbled something incoherent and tried to move, but didn't meet with much success. It didn't take long for Candy to find why. The edge of Joe's jacket had been covering it at first, but as he moved around Candy spotted the blood. Having zeroed in on the problem, Candy brushed the jacket aside and carefully lifted Joe's shirt to reveal a bullet hole in his left side. It wasn't as clean a wound as Candy would've preferred to see, but it also wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Side wounds could be anything from minor to fatal.

Candy did what he could immediately to try and stifle the bleeding, and then renewed his attempts to rouse Joe. He knew he needed to get Joe to a doctor, but he didn't want to leave Joe here unconscious to go back for the doctor, so he hoped to wake Joe enough that he could sit a horse and they could make it back that way.

Candy then checked Joe's saddlebag, which had been left behind. The money was still in it. Candy wasn't sure if he felt easier or not. On the one hand, it was just horse thieves that had attacked Joe. On the other, Candy now had responsibility for the money. He'd carried money for the Cartwrights before, in amounts that were staggering, but he didn't have to feel at ease about it. And he especially felt uneasy since he had to somehow get into town with an injured man.

The first intelligible thing Joe managed to say didn't make Candy feel any better about the situation.

"Cochise," Joe mumbled quietly, "They... they took Cochise."

"Who?" Candy asked.

Joe murmured something incoherent, followed by a soft, "Don't know," then he began to try and describe them.

"Alright, don't worry about it now," Candy said, "Think you could set a horse?"

"They... they took him," Joe said, a bit of hysteria making it through the pain and weariness, "Candy, they took Cochise!"

"Yeah, you said," Candy replied mildly, "Now come on. Easy now. Easy."

With considerable coaxing and no small amount of effort, Candy managed to get Joe up. He elected to put Joe on his chestnut instead of the rental. The chestnut was a dependable animal of mild temper and amiable nature. The rental horse was an unknown, and this was no time for Joe to be riding a mystery.

Joe was only barely conscious, with just enough in him to stay on a horse with Candy helping him, but he continued to mutter about the loss of his pinto. He was babbling, not really making any sense, but Candy understood him well enough to know what had him so worked up.

It didn't usually show much, because Cochise was just always there, seldom threatened. But Joe had his heart all tangled up in that pinto pony. If it was at all possible for a man to be best friends with a horse, Joe had that kind of relationship with Cochise. Those thieves hadn't just shot Joe and left him for dead, they'd taken a piece of him with them when they rode out.

Finally, desperate to get Joe to conserve his energy, Candy said, "Don't worry. I'll get him back for you. You just hang on until we get to town and find you a doctor, alright?"

"Alright," Joe mumbled into the mane of the chestnut, and then became quiet.

He was leaning on the horse's neck, unable to hold himself upright, but the chestnut took it in calm stride and didn't give Joe a hard time about it.

It wasn't a particularly long ride into town, and with a road to travel on it wasn't difficult. But to Candy it seemed like both of those things. He wasn't particularly worried about being attacked, horse thieves weren't exactly known for coming back to kill the owners of the horses they stole. But so long as they were out in the open on a road, his every instinct was for self preservation. With a wounded man, he looked like a target, particularly since that wounded man was a Cartwright.

* * *

Frank and Cliff didn't realize the danger they were in. The beautiful dark bay with his coat of rich mahogany and black went along with them as gentle as a kitten. It was the little black and white pony that put up a fuss. At first it seemed like the shots had spooked him, but they were well away when the pony neighed shrilly and half-reared. He didn't lash out with his forelegs, but instead kept them tightly tucked under him, pulling at his lead shank.

"C'mon you mule-headed cayuse," Cliff urged, tugging at the rope, the end of which he'd tied to the saddle of his horse.

The pinto came down and took a few choppy steps forward, then reared again with another whinny of protest. This time he struck out with one foreleg. Even though Cliff yanked on him, he stayed up for several seconds, before coming down and jerkily moving forward again.

"What's wrong with him?" Cliff asked of Frank, "Think he's sick?"

"He ain't sick," Frank returned, "He's jus' fightin' ya."

Neither of them thought to take up the pinto's lead, which gave him the repeated opportunity to rear. Meanwhile, led on by Frank, the long-limbed bay stallion was quiet and cooperative. Neither Frank nor Cliff had any inkling that the pinto wasn't the real devil here, that their prize was simply biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

But the pinto wasn't a killer, nor did he habitually go to war with men. He might buck off a strange rider, but that was about as far as it went. He wasn't accustomed to being treated roughly or unfairly by men, and was generally amenable to leading. But he was also a good horse, and he knew his master had been wounded. He wanted to go back, to stand watch over his injured master. If Joe could've summoned the strength to get on his back, the little horse would have ferried him all the way home.

Whether he understood that these men were the cause of harm to his master could be a subject of debate, but what could not be more clear was that he believed they were going the wrong way. Not only that, but they were trying to push him faster than his bruised hindquarters wanted to go. So the pinto neighed, braced, reared and twisted his head against the pull of the halter.

"Maybe we should cut him loose, Frank," Cliff suggested, "You said he ain't worth much compared to the bay, and he's not settlin' down."

"We ain't lettin' nobody go nowhere," Frank retorted angrily, "You just keep a hold of that pony."

It puzzled him that anyone would dare sit on a horse who still had the spirit of this one. The little pinto was plumb dangerous is what he was. Frank fully intended to beat that out of him, and then sell him to whoever would take him. Frank assumed the little pony was an Indian pony that had been stolen or bought. Frank had no love for the Indians, but he had great respect for their horses, which were some of the fastest, toughest, most sure-footed horses he'd ever seen. If this really was an Indian pony then he'd fetch a good price for anyone able to recognize him as such. Even if he wasn't, Frank knew he could pass him off as one, and that was just as good, financially speaking.

* * *

Candy left Joe with the town doctor in a hotel room and looked for a telegraph office. Finding one, he sent an urgent message to Virginia City for Ben Cartwright, telling him the barest essentials, which was where they were and that Joe had been shot, but was alive. To include that the shooters had stolen the horses would be too many words to bother with, aside from being mostly irrelevant in comparison with the more important information about Joe.

Returning to the hotel, Candy found Joe was a bit livelier than he'd been before. The doctor was still working on him, but Joe had become somewhat animated. He was straining to describe the men and which direction they'd gone to the disinterested doctor.

"Look," the doctor said finally, clearly frustrated, "I don't care a whit about no horse thieves. You got a bullet in you and it's got to come out, but if I'm gonna take it out, you're gonna have to be still."

"Candy," Joe said, seeing the hand enter the room, "You gotta go after 'em, okay? You gotta get Cooch back."

"Joe, I can't just leave you here like this," Candy told him, "I sent a telegraph to Mr. Cartwright. Once he gets here, then I'll go look, but until then-"

"It'll be too late!" Joe practically yelled, trying to sit up, but then driven back to the bed with a hiss of pain, "They'll be long gone by then."

"They're only horses, Joe," Candy reminded him.

"Only hors... only horses!?" Joe stuttered with anger, and possibly pain, "They're not just horses... they're not! They're-" Joe broke off as he again tried to sit up, failed and sank back, "They're not just horses..." he grit his teeth, closing his eyes tight against the pain.

"Hold still," the doctor grumbled.

"Candy... Candy you've _got_ to get those horses back... you just... you just have to."

"If I go, will you promise to be still and let the doctor take care of you?" Candy inquired.

Wordlessly, his eyes still closed, Joe nodded.

"Well... alright. I'll go. But you take it easy, you hear?"

"Yeah... yeah, alright," Joe said, nodding weakly, "I'll stay here. But... just get him back."

"You better be here when I get back," Candy said, backing towards the door, gesturing at Joe with the hand holding his hat, "And you better be alive too."

He put his hat on and left.

Feeling like maybe he'd wasted money on the deal, Candy returned the rental horse, and then rode out on his chestnut. But first he told the town sheriff what had happened. The man seemed singularly uninterested. Bittner was a small town, and the sheriff had but one deputy. As this had happened outside of town and the outlaws were probably long gone, the sheriff wasn't about to mount a posse.

Even so, Candy described the men as Joe had. Tall, blond hair, blue eyes, riding a couple of sorrel horses. Candy included the descriptions of the horses that had been taken, mentioning Cochise in particular because the little pinto was so distinctive that -even at a distance- he couldn't be missed.

Back at the scene of the attack, Candy dismounted and inspected the scene. The marks in the dirt and broken brush told him more about what had happened than Joe ever could have. By the time he'd been around looking at the tracks once, Candy knew the weight of the men, the size and disposition of their horses, the fact that one of them had a tendency to put most of his weight on his left foot. He knew they had ridden in and held Joe at gunpoint, had him throw aside his pistol. He knew that Joe had taken a step forward when they'd taken hold of his pinto, probably voicing a word of protest. It was then that Joe had been shot. It had been a small mistake, to move towards the armed men, but it was nonetheless a mistake that could have cost him a lot more than the loss of his little pinto.

The riders had lit out, fast as they could go, but they had a problem. One of the horses they were dragging behind them was giving them fits, bracing and rearing and pulling against them. It was Cochise that was doing it, and the tracks to Candy resembled a horse trying to dislodge a cougar from his back. About half a mile from the scene of the attack, Candy saw more imprints that would seem to confirm the theory. Cochise had gone down and rolled, kicking dirt with his hind feet, scrabbling with his front ones. It had taken time and effort to right him.

"Keep fighting them, Cochise," Candy said under his breath, "and I'll catch up with you."

The long strides of Firebrand were easy to make out. The horse was on his toes, half-dancing, and Candy could just picture the arrogantly raised head, the ears strained so far forward their tips almost touched, and the fury in the dark eyes. The stallion's tracks said as much about him as one look at him did. Firebrand didn't care that he was being led away as Cochise did, but he'd be looking for his chance to fight back nonetheless.

"You're the sort of horse a thief deserves to get hold of," Candy muttered, "I hope you kick them both."

Then he rode on, following the tracks.

* * *

"Blast your ornery hide, you dad-blamed stupid horse!" Cliff exclaimed.

He snapped the lead hard and it struck against the pinto's muzzle. With a neigh more of surprise than pain, the little horse rose onto his hind legs as fully as he was able, flattening his ears and rolling his eyes until the whites showed. He struck out with his forelegs and Cliff had to work hard to get all four feet back on the ground.

Cochise was angry.

He had never been treated this way in his life, frightened and wrestled and yanked around by men he didn't know and therefore did not trust. He knew that his master would never allow this to continue. He had lost any thought of going back for Joe, and now thought only of fighting back against the fool who would force him away from his home and the things he understood and loved. Cochise was a little frightened yes, but he had never before been hurt by men before. He had been no slave, but a willing servant of his master.

Cochise reared again, but the lead was yanked before he could get very far up and he put his hooves back on the dirt. He was dirty and drenched with sweat, a heavy lather lay on his shoulders. But the energetic little pinto had more endurance than the horse Cliff was riding, and the animal was weary of both carrying a rider and fighting to control Cochise's outbursts.

"Hey, Frank, we've gotta stop," Cliff said, "My horse is about to fold under me."

Frank scowled over his shoulder, but quickly saw Cliff was right. Cliff's sorrel staggered as Cochise tried to blow past him, only to be jerked around sharply by the rope of his halter.

"Alright," Frank replied, "I guess we can stop. But not for long. The Wolf will be on our trail in no time at all, and we've gotta put enough distance between him and us that he'll never catch up."

"Aw, you keep sayin' that, but I say he can't be any harder to kill than this horse is to control," Cliff responded, snapping the lead line again.

Cochise screamed, tossed his head and attempted another rear.

If the men had only thought to treat him with a little patience, Cochise might've settled down. He wasn't a wild horse, and didn't hate or fear men. But he resented their treatment of him, and with every abuse his fury grew. His rearing and screams were warnings, telling them not to keep pushing him, warning them to stop. But they were ignoring him, and he was becoming more irate by the moment.

When they stopped however, Firebrand gave them no warning. None at all.

Seeing his chance when Frank began to dismount, Firebrand plunged forward with his ears pinned back. He made no sound, issued no neigh or whistle of challenge. The big horse reared high and struck wildly with both forelegs. One connected with the side of Frank's horse.

Frank screamed and fell to the ground as his horse tumbled down. His horse, with a neigh of pain and fear, got to his feet and bolted. Firebrand reared again, trying to trample Frank under his hooves, but the man managed to roll clear. Snorting in anger, Firebrand went after him, stomping the ground as Frank retreated, trying to get to cover, away from the horse. He had no chance to go for his pistol, the horse was too fast.

Cliff would have intervened, but his distraction was just the chance Cochise needed. As Firebrand commenced his attack, Cochise attempted to bolt after Frank's fleeing sorrel. When he ran out of slack, he continued to pull, and Cliff's horse shifted, turned and braced to stop him, ruining Cliff's attempt at a shot. Reining his horse in desperately, Cliff tried to go for his pistol. Changing tactics, Cochise whirled suddenly and then slammed chest first into the side of the other horse, forcing it to turn, attempting to herd it in the direction he wished to go. He wasn't intending to defend Firebrand, but it worked out that way anyhow. With his horse swinging around and beginning to move in response to Cochise's demands, Cliff had to refocus his efforts on getting control of his mount and the horse he led.

In the meantime, Firebrand took a final strike at Frank, then seemed to suddenly realize he was free. Rearing to his fullest height, the stallion struck at the sky. Whistling his clarion challenge to the world, Firebrand took off. He was ponderous looking at first, but once he found his stride he galloped with a motion as smooth as silk. In a flash, he was gone, leaving the two men sans their greatest prize.

Finally getting his horse under control, Cliff yelled, "Frank! Frank, you okay?"

Frank was getting up, dusting himself off. His fear gave way to rage.

"Get down offa that horse!" Frank snarled.

"What are you gonna do, Frank?" Cliff asked.

"I'm goin' after that bay. Now get down and lemme have your horse!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Cliff wanted to know, but began to dismount anyway.

"Stay here with the pinto and wait for me," Frank shouted.

"Aw, Frank, you can't catch up with him, even I know that."

"I can and I will, now get down," Frank roughly shoved his brother aside, "And keep a lookout for The Wolf. If you see him, shoot him. Whatever you do, don't let him find you first."

And with that, he whipped Cliff's horse into a run and took off after Firebrand.

Scowling, Cliff looked around for a sheltered spot to wait out of the sun.

Cochise, much as he detested Cliff, was hot and tired, and followed him willingly to the copse of trees. Cochise was also desperately thirsty from all the fighting he'd done today, but Frank had taken Cliff's canteen when he left, so there was no point in attempting to beg water from Cliff.

There was nothing for it. Given no alternative, and the fact that he'd been unable to sleep last night for all of Firebrand's bellyaching, Cochise shifted his weight to rest one of his hind legs with the hoof on end, dropped his head and fell asleep. In moments, the little pinto was snoring gently.

"Yeah, easy for you," Cliff grumbled, "You ain't got to worry about no Wolf comin' for your hide."

Before he settled down to wait, Cliff thought to break off the branch of a scrub brush and whisk away the tracks as best he could. He didn't know a great deal about tracking, but he figured that it would be easy to miss that there were now only three horses on the trail instead of four.

* * *

Candy of course couldn't know of the change of circumstances ahead of him. If he had, he might've had something of a different strategy. But he had no reason to know or suspect that one of the horse thieves had not continued, had in fact stopped somewhere off the trail, out of sight.

But he did not miss the change in the tracks. He saw the evidence of the scuffle, and saw that two horses had bolted, and one set of tracks belonged to a horse that had formerly been possessed of a rider. And too, he saw the tracks detailing that one man had dismounted and given his horse over to the other, and then stayed behind with the fourth horse. It wasn't hard to recognize Cochise's tracks.

Candy had only just barely seen the tracks and begun to analyze them when a shot rang out. It was a clean miss, the bullet stabbing into the dirt just a foot in front of his horse. The chestnut neighed and shied, and Candy let him. He galloped the horse a short distance, then slid it to a stop and hit the dirt as a second shot winged over his head. He hadn't chosen his direction at random.

On the last ridge he'd stopped at the crest of, he'd taken in the landscape and seen there was a bit of a dry wash ditch, where one could have good cover if they should need it. It was in this direction that he'd driven his mount. It didn't make very good cover for his horse, but it would have to do. He held to the horse's reins to keep him from bolting. Candy didn't try shooting back. Not yet. There wasn't any point just now because he didn't know what or who he was shooting at. He had too few bullets and too little information on the situation to go around carelessly trading shots.

His attacker had no such caution, and continued firing.


	4. Gunfight

Candy had finally traded a few shots with one of the thieves. The man had tried moving in on Candy's position, and Candy had taken the opportunity to try and hit him. Unfortunately there was too much distance between them for Candy to have much of a prayer at accuracy, but his shots did drive the man back under cover. By this time, Candy had assessed that there was only one shooter, and those were odds he liked rather better than if there'd been two.

His main problem was the dearth of cover between where he was and where the other man had holed up. He didn't have any way to get over there. Not until dark, anyway. Typically, having to out-wait his adversary was not something that would have upset Candy. He had learned long ago the value of patience where battles were concerned, the virtue of taking things slowly and quietly, planning, thinking and taking the time to fight the battle right. But he happened to know this man had a partner, one who could be back any time now.

Candy had no doubt but that Firebrand could outrun anything the other man might be riding, certainly the weary sorrel Candy knew he had. But the question was if the man would figure that out or keep on chasing after Firebrand. That was something Candy had no way of knowing. And he didn't want to still be here if the second man was coming back. He didn't like the odds of two against one, and especially not when one of the two would have the opportunity to come in at another angle. Candy knew he could easily be caught in a crossfire, and that would be the end of him for sure.

As he had no interest at all in seeing his own end today, Candy decided to take a gamble. The ditch where he'd sequestered himself had obvious been caused naturally by water run off. If he followed it, it might just provide cover enough for him to get clear of the battleground and then come back from another direction. He knew that if he didn't shoot back, his attacker might try to move in again, and catch him from behind. He also knew that if there was insufficient cover, his horse might be seen and give the game away. He knew also that if there wasn't enough cover even for him, he'd be in worse trouble than if he'd waited.

But it seemed to him that this was the most sensible option and it certainly felt better than just waiting around and hoping things would hold together as they were until nightfall.

* * *

The Wolf had startled Cliff. Not only had Cliff misjudged that first shot, The Wolf had lit for cover faster than he would've believed possible. Cliff hadn't even known that dry wash was there, would not have suspected that there was any cover at all in that direction, much less enough of a dip in the land to conceal a horse.

It made him nervous that The Wolf didn't shoot back, but instead waited in stillness, in silence, watching for a chance to take Cliff unawares. Cliff wasn't especially fond of gun fighting, and the only sort he'd known had been fast, hard and over in a matter of moments. None of this taking cover and waiting around stuff. It made him edgy to know that somehow The Wolf had dropped from sight out there in the sage, and could be anywhere in the brush now and Cliff wouldn't know it.

The little pinto had snorted and shied at the first shot, but Cliff had him tied. After the first couple of shots, the pony settled, but continued to roll his eyes warily and toss his head. Cliff knew that if the pinto was turned loose, he'd bolt for sure. Idly, Cliff wondered if he was fast enough to outrun the chestnut The Wolf had ridden in on. Looking at the pinto's short legs, he somehow doubted it.

Even if the pinto could manage such speed, how long would it be before he overcame his fear of the gun and started trying to fight Cliff again? He'd already fought that pony from the back of another horse, he wasn't really very keen on the idea of actually sitting on him. Besides, what if the next shot that went off made that horse buck instead of run? Then Cliff would be dead on the ground, that's what.

If Cliff had known the horse a little better, he wouldn't have been so worried about the last. Cochise had been around a great deal of gunfire in his day, and wasn't prone to panic. In truth, he was only upset now because he was by himself with a stranger he didn't like. If there'd been a horse he knew around, or if Joe had been here, Cochise wouldn't have been so spooked. But even in this case, he wasn't going to set to bucking or even galloping in a wild panic. He'd go if he could, yes, but never too fast to watch where he was stepping, and not in any random direction either. Turned loose, Cochise would get clear of the battleground and then make a run for home as fast as his legs could carry him. If that happened, the only thing that might make him stop was the familiar whistle of his master, though at this point it would be competing hard with his empty belly, which was reminding him of the good grain to be found in his feed bucket back home. Cochise was hungry, and he wanted his stall with its feed bucket and clean bucket of water. He wanted his brush, and he wanted his straw. He did _not_ want to be here.

But Cliff didn't know what the pinto wanted, and wouldn't have cared if he had, because the only wants Cliff had ever looked after were his own.

He wasn't a gun fighter, and he didn't like this situation. He wished Frank were here. Heck, he wished they'd never laid eyes on that flea-bitten bay horse. If they'd only never seen that dang horse, then none of this would be happening. Cliff was a nervous, edgy sort when it came to violence. It was Frank who did the violence most of the time, Cliff preferred talking his way out of situations. But he imagined talking would not get him anywhere here. And he was right.

* * *

Candy's horse didn't like the narrowness or the roughness of the ditch, and kept trying to turn and hop up the bank to ground more to his liking. He followed Candy reluctantly, not understanding why they had to stay down in this small, rocky place. But though he put up a bit of a fuss, he didn't really fight much.

That was good, because Candy couldn't afford to pay too much attention to what his horse was doing. He had to make sure that both he and the horse stayed out of view, and avoided any loose gravel that would make enough noise to give them away. Candy could be quiet as a cat, but his horse was another matter. Even the best trained horse wasn't terribly stealthy, he wasn't built for it.

A curve in the path of the wash suddenly put them where the wind was blowing towards the other man's position, carrying their scent to where the pinto was tied. Candy almost immediately heard the familiar neigh of welcome from Cochise. Cochise liked other horses, and in particular ones he spent a lot of time with. Candy's horse stopped and lifted his head to return the neigh. Thinking fast, Candy tugged at the reins, bringing the horse's head down sharply. He didn't like to do it, but if his horse let out a peep then the man who had Cochise would know precisely where Candy was at.

The chestnut lowered his head meekly and started forward again. But Cochise couldn't let it go, and let out another contact call, just in case he hadn't been heard the first time. This time Candy wasn't fast enough to silence his horse, and the chestnut let out a noisy whinny.

A shot pinged off the high side of the wash, just above Candy's head, and he flinched involuntarily. When he did that, he lost his grip on the chestnut. The red horse heaved himself out of the dry wash, on the opposite side from where the shooting was coming from. And then he hightailed it for home.

Candy watched him go, and cursed under his breath.

It wasn't that it was such a long walk back to town (though it was longer than Candy would've liked), it was just that he didn't want to go back to that rental agency and get another nag that could barely hobble. And he'd have to do that if he was going to catch up to the other horse thief, or get home for that matter. But he'd been in wild country without a horse before, he could do it again.

Sighing, he sat down with his back against one of the walls of the wash and resigned himself to fate.

Nothing had really changed, except that now he had no transportation and his adversary knew he'd been moving down the wash. But it still seemed like his best option. Only he decided he should go the other way. He'd been going downhill, because the ditch was likely to stay deeper, but he was pretty sure his adversary would anticipate him going that way now. And besides, he no longer had a horse to keep in cover, so he might as well go back the other way, hope not to be spotted, and pray that this adversary of his wasn't smart enough to suspect he'd double back, even though it was an obvious ploy.

But it seemed to Candy that he didn't have a lot of choice. He still didn't want to hang around until dark and hope nobody else showed to back up his adversary. And he didn't like the other man knowing exactly where he was either. And he especially didn't like having to wait around out here without any food or water, which his horse had been carrying on his saddle.

Candy did at least have his rifle out in addition to his pistol, which gave him more firepower to work with. He'd been in worse situations. Much worse.

"Okay," he said finally, "Okay."

He got up and began to move back the way he'd come

* * *

"Pa! Hey, Pa!" Ben Cartwright looked up from the papers he was studying just in time to see Hoss come barreling into the house, "Pa! Oh there ya are! Pa, a telegram just came in. Candy sent it, says here that Joe's been shot."

"What?" Ben asked in alarm, coming over to look at the paper.

"Now, it says he's alive, but don't go into any detail. Now why wouldn't Candy give us a little more information?" Hoss wondered.

"Cost, probably," Ben replied, knowing Candy preferred not to spend money if he didn't have to, "Says here they're in Bittner. That's a hard day's ride from here."

"If we take off now, we could be there by morning," Hoss suggested hopefully.

Ben was typically more inclined to settle back and consider things, but he felt the same eagerness that Hoss did. Joe, Hoss' little brother and Ben's youngest son, had been hurt. There was no talk of waiting for morning.

"I'll saddle my horse," Ben said decisively, "Let Hop Sing know not to bother fixing us any dinner."

It was less than half an hour later before they rode out.

They knew the ranch hands they hired could handle things until they got back. It wasn't at all uncommon for the whole family to leave the Ponderosa for one reason or another, and this was unfortunately not the first time they'd ridden out after hearing that one of their clan had been shot.

Every time it happened, Ben prayed it would be the last.

* * *

Working his way up the wash took time, but Candy was patient. Now he wasn't dealing with a horse, it was a lot easier to be quiet, and to stay below the ridge line, out of sight. It also meant he could devote more time to listening, making good and sure his adversary wasn't coming up on him quietly.

Eventually, he came to the end of the line. It was either break out in the open, or crawl belly to the ground. Candy chose the smarter option, and slipped virtually silently through the brush, as flat against the dirt as he could get. This was one thing he knew how to do. In fact, it was what he was best at. Above any other skill or talent he had, Candy's ability to move unheard and unseen in minimal cover was his best asset, and the ability had saved his life more times than he could count. He knew that, someday, he would slip up. Someday he would be heard or spotted, and that day would likely be his last.

Today was not that day.

It was long, exhausting work to make his way slowly, _slowly_ around back of his adversary. He couldn't afford to be seen or heard at any point while he made his move. He had no protection from bullets out here, his only advantage was that he hadn't been noticed. If he was spotted, the light was good enough for it to be impossible for him to disappear with a quick move into the nonexistent shadows. He'd be caught out in the open, with nowhere to go.

His only chance was to get around behind the other man, and then work his way in close.

The afternoon sun was hotter than Candy would've liked, the cool of the morning was but a distant memory. The air was dry, the sun-baked dirt was hot, and Candy's adrenaline was about spent by now. He knew that the next few minutes and the seconds of which they were composed were crucial. He would either come out the victor and then take a well earned rest, or else he'd be dead. Either way, it wouldn't be long.

Candy hadn't made a mistake really, but he'd underestimated how excited Cochise would be to see him. On his way up to what he presumed was a campsite, he failed to avoid letting the horse notice him. Cochise lifted his head and whinnied welcomingly, tugging at his lead line.

After that, it was all over in a split second. The other man whirled, gun drawn, ready to fire. But Candy was a hair faster, and he shot first. Even so, he wasn't the only one to fire. The sting of a bullet seared across the back of his left shoulder and he lay stunned.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the pain subsided enough for him to get up and take a look at the man he'd downed. The man was dead. Too bad, Candy would've liked to know who he was and who his partner was and where they had been intending to take Firebrand. But it couldn't be helped. What was done was done, and at least now Candy had Cochise back. That was something anyway.

The damage to his shoulder was minor, Candy felt sure, but his left arm didn't want to do any work, and that made it a long process getting the dead man slung across Cochise's back. It took longer still to get the horse settled out. The pinto was wild-eyed and tossed his head, pawed at the ground and generally acted as if he was about to explode. Candy knew Cochise was a one man kind of horse, and he let the horse take his time getting calmed down. With the pain his shoulder was in, Candy wasn't in much of a hurry to set to walking, especially since it promised to be a hot, dusty, sunny walk into town.

Cochise didn't seem particularly on board with the notion once they were underway. Candy assumed the little horse's back was hurting him, and that's why he put up a fuss. He knew Cochise had carried dead men before, so that wasn't it. What he didn't know was the animosity that existed between the pinto and the man Candy had put across his back. Cochise crab-stepped, tossed his head, and then crow hopped.

"Easy, whoa, whoa... take it easy," Candy soothed, bringing himself towards the horse, taking up the slack as he approached, "Easy, now... it ain't so bad."

When he was close enough, he rubbed the little horse's neck, and felt the dried sweat there. Joe would be plenty mad if he ever found out what condition Candy had found Cochise in. The horse tossed his head, trying to go into his half-rear that he loved to execute when brought to a halt.

"Easy... easy," Candy said evenly, using his level tone to steady the horse, holding the animal by the halter to keep him down.

Cochise responded eventually, lowering his head just a fraction and pitching his ears forward to listen. They flicked back somewhat irritably for a moment, as if he was offended it wasn't the sound of his master's voice, but then he put them forward to listen again. Candy had saddled and led Cochise before, as well as unsaddled and groomed him. Cochise knew Candy, and let himself be soothed by the familiarity of the man.

Once the horse was calm, Candy led him forward. Cochise crabbed again, but then evened out and followed along passively. Given how much trouble Cochise was being, and the fact that Candy had only one good arm with which to deal with him, Candy was just as glad Firebrand was nowhere in sight. He'd rather deal with a temperamental Cochise than Firebrand in any mood.

In a way, it felt like an odd kind of justice. If that horse thief ever caught up with Firebrand, the stallion was liable to kill him. Far as Candy was concerned, the two deserved each other. But he also knew that he'd be back out here trailing them just as soon as he finished with Cochise and the corpse he was carrying. Though Joe had been officially responsible for the stallion, that responsibility transferred over to Candy the moment Joe was shot. And besides, it had been Candy who'd been leading the stallion when he struck Cochise, which was what had set this chain of events in motion to begin with. Besides, Firebrand wasn't just any horse. He wasn't even just a ridiculously expensive horse. He also happened to belong to a friend of Ben Cartwright's. If Candy didn't get that horse back, it was worse than if it had been Mr. Cartwright's horse. If it had been, Mr. Cartwright just would have lost faith in Candy and been sorry to lose a horse. Since it belonged to someone else, that someone else might lose faith in Mr. Cartwright, or be angry with him, or hold him responsible. That was worse.

Had it just been his own horse, Candy would have been inclined to just let it go. Let that horse thief get what was coming to him, and then let that man killer either go wild or be shot for the crime. But the horse didn't belong to Candy, so that wasn't his call to make.

No matter. He'd just have to get the horse back. Somehow.

* * *

Firebrand had quickly left horse and rider in the dust. He didn't slow down until he could no longer catch their scent on the breeze. Then he eased down from a gallop to a canter, and from there into an easy trot. Finally he stopped, his head and tail high, scenting the air. This was mighty dry country, and Firebrand was quite thirsty. His nose told him there was water out there in the hills.

With a shake of his mane, he set off.

Not far back, Frank was pushing Cliff's sorrel to move faster. The horse was weary, but more than that he was desert wise, and unwilling to run himself into the ground for his rider. He did as he was told, but gradually got slower and less responsive to the kicks in his ribs, and then finally stopped altogether.

A neigh came from the direction of a gorge. Cliff's sorrel neighed back, and a moment later Frank saw his own horse come staggering out. Seemingly abashed, the animal trotted over and touched noses with Cliff's mount. Frank transferred to his own horse, and then kept riding, following the tracks of the bay and dragging Cliff's weary sorrel along behind his own.

Sometime later, well ahead of Frank, Firebrand raised his fine head, scenting the air. He was getting closer to that water, he could smell it. But the rough hill country was hard on him, he wasn't used to terrain like this. The falling branch of a scraggly tree startled him and he tried to run, but the sharp incline made it impossible. He stumbled and nearly fell twice, and thereafter he was slower, more cautious in his movements. He began to pick his way, as he'd seen other horses do, learning by doing that he could get anywhere he wanted to go if only he was motivated enough.

His killer instincts shone plainly in his eyes, but behind that look of fierce contempt for all of humanity was a bright intelligence, which had no doubt contributed to his hatred of man. He was a horse who would not suffer fools gladly and -to him- most people looked like fools.

Hearing a distant sound behind him, Firebrand swung his head to look over his shoulder. Even though the wind carried his scent downhill instead of bringing scents to him, Firebrand could see well enough to recognize a pair of horses, one bearing a rider. He laid back his ears irritably.

He was still trailing his lead and rope halter, but there was for once no one and nothing holding the other end. Firebrand had every intention of keeping things that way, and he increased his pace carefully, intent on putting distance between himself and that rider. He understood that there was no reason for him to fly in a panic, he knew he was faster than the animal following him. The fact was, Firebrand was a proud creature, and he'd never let any other horse outrun him. Running was his specialty, and he was confident of his ability to outrun anything on four legs.

But he didn't want to run now; the ground was treacherous, and he needed to be careful. Besides, just now he was too thirsty to run. He desperately needed a good drink, and then he'd lose this burr in his tail, which was all he now thought of the rider. They were too far away for him to worry.

And if they got closer... well... Firebrand knew how easily men died.


	5. Rescue

Candy was nowhere in evidence when Ben and Hoss rode into town. In fact, they had to go see the doctor to find out where Joe even was. There were a couple of hotels in Bittner, and Candy had rented a room in one of them for Joe. Clearly intent on saving expenses, he hadn't gotten a place for himself to stay. It was soon obvious that this was because he'd barely even been in town long enough to get the doctor to see Joe.

"Sure, he was here," the doctor said, "Came and all but dragged me up to the hotel room where he'd left your son, then lit out like his tail was afire. Came dragging back with a bullet wound, stayed just long enough for me to dress it and then took off again. Sheriff would know more'n I do. The time he came in with a wound, he also drug in a corpse on a pinto."

Joe was no help, because he was asleep. He woke very briefly when they arrived, mumbled something about Cochise and watching out because he kicked, and then went back to sleep. Ben left Hoss in the hotel and went to talk to the sheriff.

It turned out that the sheriff didn't have a great deal more information.

"Yeah, I remember him. Was in here sayin' he worked for a fella that was shot. Came in tellin' about how he'd come into town to rent a horse, then got back to his camp and saw that horse thieves or some such had been there, shot his boss. We're a little town, and the thieves were headed away from us."

"So you couldn't be bothered to do anything," Ben growled irritably.

"Haven't got the manpower. Gotta stay in town, keep things in order here. He came back yesterday, brought me a corpse, said it was one of the thieves. I guess he went out after the other one. Nobody recognizes the dead man, we've never seen him before."

Ben gave up. Satisfied that Joe was okay and under the watchful eye of Hoss, Ben decided to ride out and see if he couldn't join up with Candy. The trail was easy enough to follow, having been traveled several times in the last day or so.

He couldn't figure what had gotten into Candy. Normally, the ranch hand wouldn't even consider leaving Joe alone, hurt as he was. And especially not for some horse. Candy was smarter than to risk his life over something as minor as a horse, or Ben would have thought so anyway. And especially after getting shot himself for his trouble. It was decidedly odd behavior, and Ben found himself wondering what was driving it. Whatever it was, it wasn't Candy's usual good sense and cautious nature. Candy could be a hot-head, but Ben couldn't see how that would come to play in these circumstances.

Now, if it were Joe, Ben could see how that might be, especially as it was Cochise that had been stolen. But Candy? Ben just couldn't quite get it figured. Something was missing, he was sure. There was too much about the situation he didn't know, and he didn't much care for it.

It didn't take him much of a ride to find where the gunfight had occurred. The tracks told the story better than a thousand words. Ben wasn't the tracker Candy was, but he was certainly good enough to gather the essential turns of the battle. It looked like Candy was lucky to have come out alive. Actually, Ben didn't suppose luck had a great deal to do with it. He'd seen too much of what Candy was capable of to doubt that it had been skill that had won the day.

He didn't linger. As soon as he found the tracks leading out, he followed them.

It was an odd mess of hoof prints to follow, horses running this way and that, some with riders, some without. Ben didn't know the sequence of events, but he knew that two horses had taken off, one had later been caught by a rider, and they were followed by another rider, the last was probably Candy.

The ground became gradually rockier, the trail the horses had taken steeper. It was evident by now that the first rider was following a loose horse, most likely the one Joe and Candy had picked up, since it was the only horse unaccounted for, the only one worth going to all this trouble to get back. The second rider was likely following the trail of the first, though since they'd all gone one after the other it was impossible to guess which he was intentionally tracking, assuming he knew himself. The first rider was also leading a horse.

Ben nudged his buckskin up the hill, knowing that he was joining the veritable parade of horses and riders that had come this way in the last twenty-four hours.

The ground became rougher and more treacherous, and Ben found tracking more and more difficult, until he could only find the hoof marks of the lead horse, the one which bore no rider. He hesitated, but decided that Candy would keep following the trail he could follow, and would have headed that way too, even if his horse hadn't stepped on any dusty patches or left any marks. If Ben was wrong, at the least he'd get the stolen horse back. Anyway, that's what he assumed.

He drew Buck up short at the sound of a horse's neigh of fear. Judging the direction and distance, he urged Buck in that direction as fast as he dared push the buckskin over the rough ground. As he got closer, Ben heard a shout, but it was brief and choked off.

Coming around a steep incline, Ben found himself riding into a draw, with a stream running at the bottom of it. But the thing that caused him to halt his horse was what else was in the draw. What he saw was a downed horse with a rider pinned under him, and a stallion he could only assume was Firebrand rearing over them.

At this distance, he didn't fancy his chances of hitting the horse and not the man, so instead of pulling out his rifle, he took his pistol and shot it skyward just as the big bay reared up to his fullest height. The stallion screamed and whirled away from the sound. In a moment, he'd galloped up the draw and disappeared around a bend.

As Ben rode up, the downed horse made an attempt to right himself, but his rider held him in check. Once he was close enough, Ben recognized Candy. He dismounted quickly and came to the head of the downed horse. The obvious problem was that the horse might wind up trampling Candy in getting up if no one was there to control him. With Ben to guide the animal, the risk was minimized. Wordlessly, Candy released the horse and Ben helped the animal to stand, then led it a short distance to where he'd left Buck, before turning back to Candy.

"Are you alright?" Ben asked.

"Oh sure. I get pinned under horses all the time," Candy said, but Ben noticed how gingerly he was picking himself up, and how he kept his weight on his left as he did so.

The horse he'd been riding had gone down on its right side, which explained why Candy hadn't tried to shoot the stallion when it attacked him.

"I never even saw him coming," Candy continued, rolling his right shoulder experimentally and wincing, "Came charging right up the draw at me. My horse spooked, lost his footing and went down. That's about-" he broke off abruptly, evidently from a pain in his side, then went on, "-about when you showed up."

"Just what were you trying to prove anyway?" Ben asked sternly, now he was satisfied Candy could stand and probably walk on his own.

"Prove?" genuine confusion crossed the younger man's features.

"You know better than to take off like you did. Those gunmen had you outnumbered, and they'd already shot Joe and left him to die."

"They don't have me outnumbered anymore," Candy pointed out defensively, pressing a hand against his side, "And anyway, I had to get the horses back. What did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to show a little more common sense," Ben replied, "You're smarter than to go off half-cocked and get yourself killed."

Candy was evidently in no mood for a lecture, "Yeah, well... maybe I'm not as smart as you think."

He stalked over to the horse that had thrown him, and began to check the animal for injury.

Ben decided to let it go.

It was fairly obvious that Candy was hot, tired and badly rattled. There was nothing like being on the ground when a horse turned on him to make a man feel small. Ben knew that only too well, having handled his share of horses, and having made mistakes with them that he was lucky to have survived.

Candy had some difficulty getting on his horse, but Ben didn't remark on it. Instead, he simply mounted Buck and waited for Candy, pretending not to notice the difficulty. Candy had a lot of pride, and didn't care to admit to injury if he could avoid it. Just now, he was scared and angry, and very likely upset with himself for not having seen the stallion coming. It wouldn't do any good to try and assess the damage now, better to wait until Candy had cooled down a little.

"Come on, let's get back to town," Ben said, "We'll never catch up to that bay now."

"It's dry country," Candy observed, "He'll come back to this stream sooner or later. Besides, one of the horse thieves is still out there somewhere. He shot Joe, and I aim to make sure he pays for that."

"As do I," Ben replied, "but not right now," at Candy's accusatory look, Ben said, "You forget; Joe may be your friend, but he's also my son. I want whoever shot him more than you do, but riding around in the desert hills like this is a good way to get killed, nothing more."

With that remark, he kicked Buck into a trot and refused to look back. He heard a moment of silence as Candy hesitated, then the sound of the horse's hooves striking on the rocky ground, following him.

If either of them had happened to look up, they might have seen that Frank was crouching on a ridge, looking down and watching the whole thing. He'd heard Candy's remark. He didn't have to ask for an explanation. Something in the man's tone, or possibly a feeling in his own heart told him that his brother was dead.

* * *

Candy cooled out on the ride back to Bittner. At the same time, he became more aware of the various pains he had. He'd been lucky not to break anything when his horse went down, but he'd actually almost flung himself clear of the horse when it fell, only barely been pinned. But he'd sure felt it when he hit the rocks, especially his right side. He'd twisted as he went down, and hit his ribs hard. But he was confident it was just bruising. He wasn't a doctor or anything, but he'd had broken a rib before, and he had a pretty good idea what it felt like.

"You're not... uh... angry with me, are you?" Candy inquired somewhat meekly, "For leaving Joe by himself at the hotel?"

Candy's initial encounter with Mr. Cartwright hadn't been entirely a positive one, but he'd never forgotten the trust the man had placed in him, allowing him to ride point and listening to his advice, questioning him but never interrogating him. It wasn't until later that Candy began to understand just how far having a Cartwright on your side could get you.

More than once he'd been accused of one crime or another, and in days past he'd always been forced to run or fight his way out. He hadn't stood much of a chance at proving his own innocence, people just tended to get the wrong idea about him one way or another. But Mr. Cartwright had shown him another way, and that was to face his trouble and hold his ground. He knew that having Mr. Cartwright to back him had a lot to do with it, but figuring out he could stand his ground and didn't have to run had been a new experience for him.

He'd spent most of his life ducking, hiding, trying not to get killed in the process. He'd just been out to survive when he met the Cartwright clan, nothing more. But something he'd done had impressed the Cartwrights, and they'd hired him. He hadn't expected to stay long, especially when the murder charge came down on him not long after he'd arrived at the Ponderosa. But to his shock and utter surprise they stood by him through that, and he felt he owed them his loyalty for it, and for everything else they'd taught him and done for him.

Time and again, it had been proven that Mr. Cartwright would see him as innocent until proven guilty, that the man and his sons wouldn't fire him just for having a different opinion from theirs or a different way of going about things, that they would come to his aid when he was in trouble. But a lifetime of being largely on his own, fending for himself and not having anybody he could really count on had made him nervous, and he couldn't help but ask the question he did.

"No, Candy," Mr. Cartwright replied mildly, "No, I'm not angry with you. You did what you could for Joe, I know that. But what I don't see is why you rode out here alone."

"Had to get the horses back," Candy said simply.

"It isn't like you to feel so strongly about a couple of horses," Mr. Cartwright said, "Yours doesn't even have a name."

"He _has_ a name," Candy corrected, "And it wasn't just because of a couple of horses."

"People have hurt Joe before," Mr. Cartwright pointed out, "You never went off half-cocked then."

"I didn't go off half-cocked," Candy said wearily, "I knew exactly what I was doing."

"And did you also know what you were doing when you went down into that draw and failed to see that stallion before he came at you?" Mr. Cartwright asked.

Candy flinched at that. It irritated him, but Mr. Cartwright was correct. He was tired, and he'd gotten careless. A mistake like that could have cost him his life. Would have, if Mr. Cartwright hadn't been looking out for him. He decided to show his gratitude by not arguing.

"I should've seen that horse coming," Candy said, "He's been tryin' to kill us from the moment we met him. I guess I was so busy looking for tracks and people that I forgot to look for horses."

Mr. Cartwright was silent for a long moment.

When he spoke, it was to slightly change the subject, "Has that horse really been trying to kill you?"

"Had his heart set on it right from the start," Candy answered, "Went after Joe mostly, but I got the honor of holding onto him while he did it."

"Strange," Mr. Cartwright said, "David never said anything about the horse having a bad temper."

"Maybe he didn't know," Candy replied, "He bought the horse without ever having a look at it."

"True," Mr. Cartwright said, but he sounded distracted, like he was wondering, thinking about something, and that something was bothering him more than a little.

"Well he wouldn't want anything to do with a killer horse, now would he?" Candy asked.

"No. No, I don't see why David would want a horse like that."

"I just hope that lousy thief catches up with that stallion," Candy said, "They deserve each other."

It wasn't Candy's habit to be vindictive, and he understood that sometimes it was necessary to bend the law of the land in order to survive. But stealing that horse wasn't about survival, it was about greed. And shooting Joe sure hadn't been about trying to stay alive but merely an unnecessarily cruel act. He didn't feel a bit sorry for the thief, and the horse hadn't exactly won him over either.

"I'm not looking forward to explaining this to David," Mr. Cartwright said.

Candy felt the sting of _that,_ though he didn't expect that the rebuke had been intentional. It was his fault. If he'd kept better control of Firebrand, the stallion would never have hit Cochise. Candy would never have left Joe alone to go after a rental horse. And Joe wouldn't have been shot. On top of all of that, Candy had lost track of a horse he'd been assigned to deliver to the Ponderosa. That hurt a lot more than his bruised ribs. He knew Mr. Cartwright would deny laying any blame on him if he asked, but sometimes he wondered if the man could really be as forgiving as he always seemed to be.

The way Candy had it figured, sooner or later he'd take a wrong step and that would be it. Sooner or later, Mr. Cartwright would have enough of him. Either that or the rancher would try too hard to control Candy, he'd buck it, lose his temper and walk away from the best thing he'd ever had. He'd never been any good at keeping people any closer than arm's length, and too much experience in life had taught him that death and betrayal were always nearby, and he'd taken on too much pain like that in his life to risk taking on any more of it. But somehow he just couldn't bring himself to leave the Ponderosa unless someone made him. Like it or not, it was home to him now. And that thought with all it implied scared him more than anything else ever could.

Evidently Candy wasn't very good at keeping his feelings to himself today, because Mr. Cartwright said, "Don't worry. He'll probably be upset, but he's not an unreasonable man. Besides, he's been my friend since Little Joe was a baby, I'm sure he'll care more that Joe wasn't killed than he will about his horse. Still," he added thoughtfully, "I'm inclined to reimburse him. I said I'd get the horse for him, and since that didn't happen..." he trailed off.

"I should pay for it," Candy said, avoiding looking at Mr. Cartwright, "I'm the one who lost the horse."

"Really? Because it was my understanding that you were nowhere near the animal at the time."

"No, but I shoulda been. If I'd been there-"

"You probably would have been shot too," Mr. Cartwright said, "I haven't always been proud of Joe's talent for fighting and gun play, but you know as well as I do that you couldn't outdraw him. Now, I haven't gotten the full story from Joe, but I expect that you have. Do you really think you would have done any better?"

Not only was Joe a fast draw, he was an expert marksman and had learned to shoot from the hip better than anyone Candy had ever met. Even so, the thieves had gotten the drop on him. Candy wasn't anything like so edgy as he'd been when he first joined up with the Cartwrights, and it was no longer his habit to pull out his pistol at the first sound of approaching riders. He might have noticed them before Joe did, and maybe it would have made a difference. But then again, maybe not. He just couldn't know. And because he couldn't know, it ate at him to think about it. He found that he couldn't answer the question, and instead he fell silent.

* * *

Though Candy wasn't about to admit it, Ben could tell by the time they got into town that he was exhausted. Even so, the hired hand did his job, volunteering to take the horses to the livery and make sure they were taken care of.

"And then get yourself some rest," Ben told him.

Candy had nodded absently, but Ben was confident the man would listen to him. Candy might not have been much for taking orders in his former days, but ever since he'd come to work for Ben, he'd followed even the most casual order Ben gave him. It was sort of refreshing to have someone listen to him for a change, seeing as his sons routinely did whatever they wanted in spite of what he could say or do. They'd settled out as they got older, but they were still in trouble more often than not, and usually because they'd ignored something their father had told them.

Candy might not take Ben's advice, but at least he would take Ben's orders.

With nothing else to do, Ben went up to the hotel room where Joe was. Hoss was sitting in a chair near the window, right where he'd been when Ben went out to find Candy. Even though he knew Joe should be doing alright, Ben checked him anyway. Joe mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't wake.

"He was awake about an hour ago," Hoss said, "Seemed surprised I was here. He also told me that he sent Candy out after those horse thieves."

"Strange," Ben remarked, "Candy didn't say anything about that. Acted like it was his own idea."

Hoss frowned, "Why would he go an' do a thing like that?"

"To protect Joe, probably," Ben answered, "Make sure I'd come down on him and not my son."

"Aw, Pa, you wouldn't be too all-fired mad at Joe. You know how much that pony means to him. Likely he wasn't thinkin' straight with a bullet in his gut anyhow," Hoss said.

"You know it and I know it, but like as not Candy doesn't."

Hoss wrinkled his nose. No matter how much he saw of other people, he could never quite get outside of his own upbringing. Hoss had grown up safe in his father's protection and teaching, supported and trusted and expected only to do his best, and nothing more remarkable than that. He knew exactly where he stood, and how strong the bonds of family were. He couldn't imagine anything else, even though he tried. Kindness and loyalty came too easily to Hoss for him to really understand that it didn't come naturally to everybody and not everyone was used to even being given the chance to prove himself.

But -even though the man never talked about his past to confirm it- Ben knew that Candy had been burned, and quite badly, by people he should have been able to trust. Tortured as the logic was that led Candy to act like the notion of going after the thieves by himself was all his own, Ben still had to respect it. A man who thought Joe might be punished for having given such an order had to doubt whether or not he'd keep his job for having followed it.

"You know, someday that boy's going to have to learn to trust us," Hoss remarked, "He's got to know for sure by now that we trust him."

"Yes, but it's one thing to accept trust placed in you, it's quite another to offer that trust back," Ben sighed, then shook his head, "He'll come around."

Truthfully, Ben knew Candy had already come around quite a bit. The man Ben had met that night transporting the Paiute who claimed to be a god had been skilled, but questionably reliable. Over the course of the journey through Indian territory, Ben had gotten a second look and saw that Candy was willing to work hard for a fair reward. In that case, the reward had been saving his own hide, but Ben had seen at once that he was also willing to risk it for those willing to do the same when their turn came. Candy had spent most of that trip on point with Joe, and the two had worked together smoothly right from the start.

The man Ben had eventually hired was somehow different from the one he'd met that first night, and he'd never figured out if he'd misjudged Candy or if the man had somehow changed in so short a span. But some things that didn't change were his skills, his sense of humor and his quick intelligence.

The man's caution had more than once saved his life, Ben knew. He just wished Candy wouldn't direct that wary look at him so often, like a dog just waiting to be kicked. Even though he hadn't been the one to instill that fear into Candy, it still made him feel like a heel that he couldn't get the ranch hand to trust him.

Sometimes he wondered if Candy would ever really trust anybody.


	6. Unusual Behavior

Joe was cold when he woke up. But he knew it wasn't real cold, that he only felt that way. The last thing he remembered was Hoss telling him that Pa had gone out after Candy. And that had reminded him that he'd sent the ranch hand out after the two horse thieves that had shot him. And not just that, but after Firebrand as well. He regretted that now, and knew the order had been stupid, but he couldn't help it. Cochise meant that much to him, and he'd been too dazed and in far too much pain to actually consider the risk of it. And of course Candy had gone and done what Joe asked of him. Didn't he always?

Opening his eyes and looking around, Joe observed that it was morning. He also saw that Pa was in a chair next to the bed he was lying in, clearly asleep without meaning to be. For a moment, Joe thought to just let his father sleep, but then the thought struck him that, if Pa was here, he had to know something about where Candy was. At least, Joe hoped he did. He had to know, and his impatient nature got the better of his tendency towards kindness.

"Pa?" Joe's voice wasn't enough of a whisper to be heard, so he marshaled his strength and tried again, this time achieving better results, "Pa."

Ben Cartwright opened his eyes, and smiled with relief to see his son awake.

Joe furrowed his brow, trying to formulate the sentence required to get an answer to his question. Finally, he gave up in favor of a single inquiring word, hoping that would be enough. It was.

"Candy?"

"I found him," Ben confirmed, and watched his son chew that over for a moment, "He found your horse before I caught up with him and brought him back into town."

"Cochise?" Joe seemed almost to doubt the information, and Ben realized his son's mind must still be sluggish from sleep and fatigue.

Patiently, he replied, "He's fine, aside from the injury he already had."

"Firebrand?" was Joe's next one word query.

Ben elected not to worry Joe by saying the stallion had attacked and tried to kill Candy.

"Still no sign of him," Ben replied, "But Candy caught up with one of the thieves. That's how he got Cochise back."

Joe nodded his understanding, then frowned some more. Apparently his next inquiry was more difficult than the first few, or would require more than one word to make clear. Ben waited, trying to think what could be bothering Joe now, in the hopes that he would be able to answer it before Joe wore himself out trying to figure out how to ask.

"Unfortunately the man was killed in the fight," Ben said, "We don't know who he was or where he and his partner were going with Firebrand."

Joe's expression didn't clear. Obviously Ben hadn't answered the question that was troubling him.

"Candy's alright," Ben said, "A little beat up, but in one piece."

"Wait," Joe said finally, and it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was frustrated to be receiving information he didn't want when he was trying to focus.

The amount of effort it seemed to take Joe just to get his thoughts in order scared Ben.

"Pa..." Joe said finally, finding it easier to talk now he'd got it straight what he wanted to say, "Pa, I sent Candy out there... don't... don't be hard on him. He just... he did what I told him..."

"Yes, son. I know," Ben replied.

What he didn't say was that he'd already been hard on Candy, but for the wrong reason. For a man unused to following orders, Candy seemed awfully ready to do whatever a Cartwright told him to. Thinking it over, Ben saw it was obvious that -even though the order had been a poorly conceived one- Joe hadn't broken one of the major rules of the Cartwright clan, to never ask a hired man to do anything they wouldn't. If Joe could have gone after the thieves in that moment, Ben was sure that he would have. The only reason Joe had sent Candy after them alone was that he _could not_ do it himself.

"It was a stupid thing to say," Joe persisted, "But I wouldn't let it go. I couldn't... Pa... it was Cochise."

"Yes," Ben repeated, "Yes, I know."

Joe shook his head slightly, "I could've gotten Candy killed... all for a couple of horses."

"But you didn't," Ben said, then reminded him, "Anyway, Candy is a grown man. He can make his own decisions. You may have told him what to do, but he's the one who decided to go and do it."

"Pa... you... you don't understand," Joe murmured quietly, "It's... it's a lot more... complicated."

That was as far as Joe got before he gave it up. Whatever it was, he didn't have the energy to figure out how to convey it. So instead he just repeated himself.

"Just... don't be hard on him, Pa. Please."

"I have no intention of being hard on him, Joseph," Ben told him, "Not for this at any rate."

He didn't add that it was probable that Firebrand had been plenty hard enough.

Joe didn't seem able to read between the lines and hear what his father didn't say in his present condition. Accepting the answers he'd been given, he complained of being cold and then went back to sleep before Ben could say he'd go find another blanket.

Ben went looking for one anyway. He'd rented a second room, and in there he found his blanket. Hoss had stayed up half the night with Joe, but finally caved and gone to bed. In his sleep, he'd kicked off the blanket and left it on the floor. As he wasn't using it, Ben decided to take it.

On the other side of the room, on a cot, Candy seemed dead to the world. Absently, Ben realized he'd never successfully approached the hand when he was sleeping without Candy's waking up. But evidently Candy had worn himself out. He hadn't exactly been fresh at the start, just having come off a long cattle drive. Ben shrugged and returned to the other room and Joe.

Joe didn't stir when Ben gave him the extra blanket, not even to mutter anything. Ben wondered if Joe was on the mend, or merely relieved to know his horse was back, but either way he seemed more relaxed in his sleep now than he had been before.

Knowing Joe as he did, Ben supposed it might be his own presence that had calmed the boy. Joe was fiery and independent, just as he'd been raised to be, but some piece of him was always the youngest son. Oh, he could handle himself alright, but if he was hurt badly enough, he always looked to his father for protection. It was just instinct, the same as it was Ben's instinct to come to his son's defense.

He sat back in the chair beside Joe's bed, and -even though he resisted it- found himself falling asleep.

* * *

When Hoss woke up, he checked in on Pa and Little Joe, found both of them sleeping. Satisfied that they were both alright for the moment, he decided to go and hunt down Candy. He knew the man had slept in the cot last night, but Candy had gotten up before him. When Pa had come in the night before, he'd mentioned that Candy had been hurt, though how badly was in question. Candy was sound enough to resist seeing a doctor, but that only meant the man was willful enough to resist Pa, who doubtless wanted to spend less time arguing and more time with his injured son.

Hoss looked in the saloon first, since that seemed like a reasonable place for a man to go. All he found was a couple of sleepy drunks, neither of whom he recognized. Hoss didn't really have a second favorite place to look, so he started just going down the street, looking for any open stores Candy might've wandered into. Eventually he made his way to livery stable, and there he found Candy running a brush over Joe's pinto.

"You know, Candy, I don't think you understand what 'full livery' means," Hoss observed.

Candy didn't even look up from the pinto. He'd undoubtedly heard Hoss coming. The man had ears like a cat.

"I know what it means, Hoss," Candy replied neutrally, continuing to groom the pinto, "But I also know that Joe sees to his horse every morning, full livery or no. Since he can't do that right now..." Candy trailed off, then spoke more quietly, "Well, I just figured-"

"Figured you'd do it for him," Hoss finished.

Instead of saying anything, Candy merely nodded slightly.

"Well, seein' as I'm his brother, I figure I'll jus' help you with it. You see an extra brush around here?"

Candy gestured to a box in the corner with grooming supplies in it. Hoss picked up a brush and came back, taking the horse's off side since Candy hadn't got to that yet.

They worked quietly for some time. Brushing a horse and watching him enjoy it was mighty relaxing, though Hoss had never quite managed to fall into the trance Joe sometimes seemed to enter when grooming a horse. Therefore, he had enough attention on the rest of the world to keep an eye on Candy.

Candy hadn't been hired on to groom horses, but he'd learned how the Cartwrights liked their horses groomed. Thorough and gentle, until the animals positively shone and were nearly asleep where they stood. Joe's pinto wasn't the easiest to get into that state of relaxation. Like Joe, the pinto was a high-spirited critter, and there were secrets to grooming him that only Joe knew. So he stood there, nodding his head and playing with his lead shank, flicking his tail periodically to swat imaginary flies, refusing to relax all the way like he was supposed to.

Aside from the horse's agitation, Hoss observed some in Candy as well. It seemed to him that the man was moving uncommonly slowly, careful-like. It was obvious he was sore from the day before. But he was also a bit jumpy, especially whenever Cochise made much of a move.

"I guess that ol' Firebrand horse really did a number on ya," Hoss observed when Candy flinched at Cochise abruptly tossing his head.

Candy closed his eyes briefly, sighed and refocused on the task.

"I've been stepped on by a horse before," Candy said after a moment.

"Well sure, an' I have too. But I ain't never had a horse tryin' to kill me before. Leastways, not while I was out all by myself, pinned down. That's a whole different kinda circumstance, don't ya think?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it? A horse rears up and it'll kill you if it comes down on you, whether it intends to or not," Candy responded.

Hoss noticed a subtle increase in the tempo of the brush strokes. Cochise noticed it too, but only flicked an ear. Many was the time he'd stood still while Joe worked out his frustrations with the brush. He knew that there would follow a slowing down, and more delicate touch. He was willing to wait for that.

"I s'pose that's right," Hoss said, "But I'd guess it still feels different, same as... as if a man shoots another man on accident, 'steada on purpose."

"Doesn't matter much if the shot man is dead, now does it?"

"Right," Hoss said, "But then again, you ain't dead, are ya?"

Candy stopped brushing the horse, opened his mouth to speak, and then resumed grooming instead. As Cochise had known he would, he settled down and started brushing more evenly. Cochise must have felt it, but Hoss saw it. This time when Candy flinched, it was in response to some internal pain, not shying from a horse. Cochise flicked his ears curiously and turned his head very slightly, but Hoss feigned obliviousness.

Eventually, they had brushed the horse as long as they could possibly have an excuse to.

"If we polish this horse any more, we'll be able to see our reflections on his hide," Hoss observed, "What's say we go back to the hotel for some breakfast?"

Candy hesitated, seemingly reluctant for some reason Hoss couldn't fathom.

Then he nodded, "Yeah. That sounds good."

He sure didn't sound very enthusiastic, but Hoss decided to overlook that.

Even if Candy wasn't hungry, Hoss was hungry enough for the both of them.

* * *

Firebrand did not return to the stream in the draw. It had seemed safe for a time, with none of the scent of man about it. But the arrival of Candy had spoiled that. The smell of man was everywhere now, and Firebrand wanted no part of man and his world, particularly his loud guns.

With two men knowing where he was, the draw no longer seemed safe, and he pressed on, once again seeking water. Though he checked the wind and listened, he encountered no sign of the man who had been following him earlier. This neither pleased nor displeased him. This was not the first time he'd gotten loose, and he knew that men could somehow find him again. He knew nothing of visible tracks left on the ground, it wasn't in his nature to look for such things. But he did know that somehow, without any of the senses he understood, men could still find him. Nervously, he increased his pace.

What Firebrand didn't know was that Frank Buckley was no longer thinking of him. No, Frank was thinking only about the man who'd killed his brother and the little pinto that had made it possible by wearing out Cliff's horse and making them stop. He could have rested the blame just as reasonably on Firebrand, but he believed that devil horse was now and forever beyond his reach, and so preferred to blame someone he thought he might be able to get his hands on.

From his unseen perch high on the rimrocks, Frank had seen when Firebrand caught the scent of Candy coming up the draw. He had watched in shock as the horse paced around, as if making up his mind about something. And he had seen the dark bay halt around a bend in the draw, out of sight. If he hadn't seen it himself, he never would have believed it. Horses were prey animals, they didn't lie in wait like a cougar in a mountain pass. But this horse did. He stood and waited. Then, when the timing was right, he'd come around the corner at full speed, startling The Wolf's horse and causing it to rear up.

What Candy had missed Frank had seen, Firebrand clipping the other horse in the haunches with his shoulder as he breezed by, knocking it down. As far as Candy knew, he'd only seen black spots in front of his eyes, but he'd actually been unconscious for a number of seconds while Firebrand slowed his rush, turned around and came back, stepping carefully around the downed horse, his entire being focused upon the task of killing the man.

Far as Frank was concerned, that dark horse was just plain viciously unnatural in his cunning, and he wanted nothing further to do with an animal like that. The horse could be worth all the money in the world, but Frank sincerely hoped the desert killed him; Frank sure as Hell wasn't going to take the risk of doing it himself.

But Firebrand didn't know that, and he stopped repeatedly on his way, searching for any signs of men following him. A wiser horse would have been less concerned about men, and more worried about the desert and its many dangers. But though he'd gotten loose before, Firebrand had never been in truly wild country, where no man had done anything to change it. He was used to not worrying any about predators, or even other horses. Firebrand had never met a mustang and had therefore only ever had altercations with domestic horses, and he'd bested them all if he was allowed to.

Had Firebrand been like Cochise, he would also have known the land he was heading into was dry as a bone, without a blade of grass to be found for miles. Cochise had not only been ridden through such hostile territory, depending on the provisions of his master to survive, he'd more than once gone galloping home on his own after being spooked by a gun fight or some such. The little pinto knew how to read the land, and would never of his own volition have taken one step in the direction Firebrand was going.

But Firebrand was not like Cochise, and he'd never seen desert before. All he knew was that the wind bore no scent of man in that direction, and he saw neither building nor fence, and that appealed to him.

* * *

Wearily, Ben came down to breakfast. He would have preferred to just stay with Joe, but he knew he needed to eat. Joe was alright for the moment. He didn't have a fever and seemed to understand where he was and what was happening to him, he was just very weak and out of it.

Ben found Hoss and Candy already eating, though with Hoss it was more like shoveling and Candy appeared to simply be playing with his food or possibly trying to beat it to death with a fork. Ben made a note of that. Candy didn't eat the quantity that Hoss could, but his eating style tended to be the same, though for a different reason. When Ben had asked once, Candy had explained that someone used to being hungry and at all times concerned about when his next meal would be and if the one he had might be taken away from him learned to wolf his meals. Hoss had never had such troubles, he merely enjoyed eating.

Between bites, Hoss invited Ben to join them at the table, so he did.

After being served, Ben took his time eating. Hoss had seconds, and Candy continued to mess around disinterestedly with his firsts. Finally Ben broke the silence.

"Do you intend to eat that, or are you going to make a piece of artwork from it?" he inquired.

"Hmm?" Candy didn't seem to realize for a moment that Ben had addressed him, "Oh. I guess I'm just not very hungry."

"Well if you ain't gonna eat it, I will," Hoss said, "No reason to waste good food."

"Have at it," Candy said, and passed his plate to Hoss.

That also wasn't like Candy. Candy tended to guard his meals, Ben guessed it was for the same reason that he tended to eat his food in a graceless hurry. Oh he'd share in an emergency situation, but it wasn't like him to casually give up a meal like it was nothing. Maybe he was more bothered than Ben had thought.

But if he was upset, he didn't give the most obvious sign of it. Instead of getting up and walking out, Candy just settled in his chair and stayed there quietly, a pensive look on his face. In fact, he was so quiet that Ben almost forgot he was there as he and Hoss settled into a normal round of conversation.

Though they were away from the ranch, Ben and Hoss talked about it, the repairs that needed doing, how some colt was coming along and how the calves were growing well. Hoss mentioned having seen wolf tracks near the north pasture, and hoping the ranch hands he'd sent to check it out before they left would run the animal off or kill it. Ben talked briefly about a potential buyer for a number of cattle. They talked about nearly everything. What they didn't talk about was what had happened to Joe, or the horse they'd lost. There would be time enough for that after breakfast.

"How long do you s'pose it'll be before we can get Joe back to the ranch?" Hoss asked finally, announcing with the question that he'd finished eating.

"Probably not very long," Ben replied, "if we rent a buckboard and take it slow."

"Is that a good idea?" Candy asked, speaking for the first time in quite awhile, "It's a long way home for a man that's been gut-shot."

"Joe will heal better at home," Ben said, "And I'd like for our doctor to have a look at him."

Candy looked doubtful, but made no comment. He'd asked his question and gotten his answer, and he certainly wasn't looking to buck Ben's authority (at least, not today), especially not where the welfare of Ben's son was concerned.

Ben understood his concern, but Candy didn't know Joe like Ben did. If they didn't take Joe home, like as not he'd drag himself out of bed and try to get himself there. Easier to just bring him there than to have to hover over him to make sure he didn't wander off on his own. When he was disoriented, Joe inevitably turned towards home, where his family was supposed to be. Ben had lost count of the times he'd come out of the house to see Joe spending the last of his strength returning to his point of origin, even when other options might have been wiser. Joe just didn't think of it, not if he was hurt bad enough. His only thought was for home.

Ben understood the sentiment.

He also knew it was one Candy simply could not coprehend, he suspected because the man had never had a real home. Joe, on the other hand, had never known another besides the Ponderosa. Joe had been on the Ponderosa his whole life, in fact he'd been born there, though that was sometimes hard to believe when Ben thought of it. By contrast, Candy was only a hired hand, and he'd only worked at the Ponderosa for a year or so. He'd indicated without really saying so that a year was longer than he'd ever stayed any place. It was completely impossible for Candy to fathom the powerful drive to get home that was such a part of Joe.

Were it anyone else, Ben would agree with Candy about the long trip. But with Joe, it was the best option.

"Still, we'll give him a couple of days, I think," Ben said, "Let him get some strength back."

Candy said nothing to that. Instead, he waited for a few moments to make sure the conversation was finished.

"Well, I guess I'll go back to that draw, see if I can find any sign of Firebrand."

Ben started to protest, but Hoss spoke up first.

"I'll go along with ya. If that horse is half as mean as you say he is, it may take two of us jus' to wrangle him," when he finished speaking, Hoss gave Ben a significant look.

"Alright," Ben sighed, "But be careful, the both of you. And be back before dark."

"Sure thing, Pa," Hoss said, getting up, "Candy?"

Wordlessly, Candy got up. Both Ben and Hoss pretended not to see how careful he was about it, but they exchanged looks, and each saw that the other had noticed. They both understood that Candy was used to concealing his injuries just to survive. In wild country, showing weakness was a good way to get yourself attacked. On a ranch, owners had been known to fire hands who couldn't pull their weight, even if they'd been hurt on the job through no fault of their own. Ben and Hoss silently agreed that the best thing to do for Candy was to pretend not to notice anything was wrong, and to take it easy on him until he recovered. Ben and Hoss knew Candy, and knew he wouldn't be faking any injury to get out of hard work. In fact, he was likely to do just the opposite, and it was up to them to keep an eye on him and see he didn't hurt himself any more than he already was. This was the real reason Hoss volunteered to go along.

The fact that Candy didn't insist he could do just as well by himself spoke volumes even though he himself said nothing. Ordinarily, he would have said something along the lines of being able to get the horse on his own, but welcoming the company anyway. But today he said nothing at all.


	7. Warning Signs

There was no sign of Firebrand. For the next two days, Candy rode out looking for him. Either Hoss or Ben went along with him every time, but they weren't really expecting to find the horse, and it was clear that Candy wasn't either, he was just being thorough.

He made a brief, small attempt to stay on and keep trying to track the horse down, but he didn't argue when Ben insisted that it was no good and they should all go back to the Ponderosa together. The horse's tracks had led out into the desert before a stiff wind had blown sand over them and erased them. There was a good chance Firebrand wasn't alive anymore, and no chance at all that Candy could track him unless the stallion came back towards town for some reason. Candy knew that better than anybody.

Joe knew better than to think he could stick on a horse, but he'd spent most of his waking moments fretting about Cochise and wanting to see him. He was clearly relieved to see Candy leading the little pinto around to the back of the buckboard by the halter while his father and Hoss helped him out of the hotel.

The horse seemed just as glad to see Joe, and stuck his head over the back of the buckboard once Joe was settled there to sniff at his master's hair, seemingly reassuring himself that Joe was really there. Hoss and Candy exchanged amused glances, and Candy shook his head.

"Y'know, Little Joe, that horse loves you more'n a mare loves her colt," Hoss said.

"Ah, he's just lookin' for sugar cubes," Joe said, rubbing the horse's nose and then pushing him back so the buckboard wouldn't catch him under the muzzle when it started forward.

Ben and Hoss rode in the buckboard with Joe in the back, while Candy stuck on his rental horse. They set off the same way they had a thousand times before, with their horses tied at the back. But this time Cochise half reared, then took a nip at Buck, who happened to be nearest him. Nobody in the buckboard noticed the exchange because they weren't looking that way. Riding up from behind, Candy witnessed but didn't understand the significance of the incident. Cochise settled down fairly rapidly once they got under way, and Candy was soon riding alongside or ahead of the buckboard, and so didn't notice when the little horse tossed his head from time to time and kicked out behind him in irritation.

The journey was necessarily slow, since the slightest bump hurt Joe terribly, though he resisted crying out. It might've been pride, but more likely it was because he knew each sound that escaped him cut his father and brother to the quick, and he didn't want them feeling that way on his account.

Candy for his part was just as happy to go slowly. He was tired, and so was his horse. He hadn't pushed the horse to its limit, knowing he didn't want to have to rent another, but the animal had carried him all over the area surrounding Bittner, searching for any sign of Firebrand, or else the man who'd stolen him, though Candy was reasonably certain that man hadn't caught up with the stallion either.

What Candy didn't know was that the man he sought had actually been in town, watching him ride in and out the last two days. He could have recognized the man's horse by its tracks. He might even have been able to recognize the man by his boot tracks, but the town had so many people and horses walking the streets that any tracks Frank left were obliterated, and Candy wasn't looking for him in town anyway. What Candy could not do was recognize horse or man on sight because he had never actually seen them.

Frank Buckley may have remembered Candy, but Candy had long since forgotten him. Candy had caught so many men cheating at poker over the years and been in so many bar fights that he couldn't be expected to remember every one of them. Even had Candy remembered him, it would only have been as a cheater at cards; he had no reason to suspect the man of anything worse, including horse stealing. The reason Frank remembered Candy was that he was one of the few who had ever caught Frank cheating at cards. That made Candy a lot more memorable to Frank than Frank was to Candy. It was a fact Frank had counted on when he risked coming into town to look for his chance to get Candy alone. But there'd been no chance. The ranch hand had always had a second man accompanying him, and Frank didn't like those odds. Not knowing the capabilities of the man he called Wolf.

It took more than a day to make the journey in a slow moving buckboard, but eventually they made it home. There was no incident on the journey that anyone was aware of. If Joe had been more alert and in less pain, he would have observed that Cochise was getting more and more irritable all the time. It wasn't that he was being hurt, it was that the rope tying him to the buckboard reminded him of the man snapping the lead against his sensitive muzzle, and the reminder was enough to make him temperamental. By the time they reached the ranch, Cochise was in a foul temper. Nobody had paid any attention to his protests, and he was just about out of patience.

Ben and Hoss took Joe inside, leaving Candy to handle the horses. Candy took them one at a time, beginning with the horses that had pulled the buckboard. The two animals had done their jobs admirably and they were tired. Not belonging to the Cartwrights, the two horses weren't accustomed to the quality treatment of the Ponderosa horses, but they took to it well.

Candy took in the rental horse he'd been riding next, and cared for him in much the same way. After that he took Ben's Buck, then Hoss' Chub, leaving Joe's Cochise for last. He didn't anticipate any trouble with the pinto, as the horse had never given him any before, but Cochise was in an extremely bad mood, and he didn't understand why his master wasn't tending to him. He'd been looking at the front door of the house, waiting for Joe to come back and tend to him, and the last thing he wanted was the ranch hand taking hold of his lead.

When he felt the tug of the lead, Cochise laid his ears back and neighed, then reared up. Ordinarily, Candy would have taken it in stride, but in his mind he returned to the moment Firebrand had meant to kill him, and that made him flinch. It was just enough for him to lose his hold on Cochise, who barreled into him, knocked Candy down as he went by and then continued on into the barn. Cochise let out a loud, demanding neigh and kicked the wood of his stall.

Rattled by the unexpected behavior of the formerly peaceful minded horse, Candy got up slowly, dusting himself off and giving himself time to recover. Cochise had startled him, but more than that he'd been drawn back in to the terror of the moment when he'd been sure Firebrand's hooves were about to come down and snuff out his life. The memory left him shaky and reluctant to go into the barn.

Cochise kicked his stall again and snorted.

The noise attracted Hoss' attention. When he came out, he saw Candy brushing dust off his vest.

"What happened?" he inquired.

"Joe's pinto tried to take a bite out of me," Candy said, then added somewhat meekly, "I don't know what set him off."

Hoss didn't ask how Candy had been handling the horse. He'd seen Candy handle enough horses to know the ranch hand was never harsh with them if he didn't have to be. He was assertive with them, but gentle enough that he could handle even the spooky, temperamental horses. Even aside from that, Candy knew perfectly well how the Cartwrights felt about mistreating a horse, particularly one that had served them well for years, and most especially their preferred riding horses. He'd never risk his place on the Ponderosa by roughing up Cochise, no matter how trail weary and saddle sore he was.

Without saying any of this, Hoss went into the barn. He found the other horses all stabled peacefully, but Cochise pacing around loose, pausing now and then to kick, sometimes hitting wood. Cochise went to his stall, flipped his ears back, turned away from it and headed for the other end of the barn. Hoss couldn't figure what was wrong with him. The horse was so fond of his stall that Joe sometimes turned him loose and just told him to go to his stall and he'd do it, and then stay there until Joe came for him.

Now he entered it briefly, kicked at the walls of it, then seemed to spook at nothing and trotted back out, kicking the air behind him. He neighed from time to time, tossing his head and dragging his lead rope behind him.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that Firebrand had rubbed off on him," Candy remarked, sounding as irritated about the whole matter as the horse himself acted.

"But you _do_ know better," Hoss said, "An' you know Little Joe's horse ain't mean spirited. Likely he's just upset Joe ain't the one takin' care of him. He doesn't know Joe's hurt, I guess."

Candy started towards the pinto, but Hoss put out an arm to block him.

"I'll get him. You go on back to the house and see if Pa needs any help with Joe."

Hoss didn't mean it that way, but the order stung Candy. He'd been responsible for taking care of the horses, but now he was dismissed from the barn like Hoss thought he couldn't handle them. He felt like he'd been sent out for having done something wrong, even though he knew he hadn't. But he didn't have it in him to argue. In truth he was relieved not to be dealing with Cochise anymore.

The memory of Firebrand was too fresh in his mind, but he didn't realize that's what Hoss had really been thinking of. Hoss had seen that Candy was shaken by Cochise's behavior, and Hoss knew why. He was just trying to be helpful and make life easier on the ranch hand. But Candy didn't know that.

Hoss turned his attention back to the little horse, who continued to pace and issue out his contact call with increasing urgency.

"Now, Cochise, this ain't the first time Joe hasn't been here to take care of ya. You got nothin' to be fussin' over, Joe'll be back takin' care of ya as soon as he can," Hoss knew it didn't matter much what he said, only how he said it, and how he approached the horse while he was saying it.

At first Cochise ignored him, but after awhile he appeared to be listening. Hoss continued speaking soothingly to him, and Cochise finally came to a stop and stood still while Hoss approached him.

"Alright now, c'mon, Cooch, let's go to your stall," Hoss said, taking the horse by the halter.

The holding of the halter strap didn't irritate Cochise, and so he settled down and let himself be led passively into his stall. He'd known Hoss as long as he'd known Joe, and the big man had always been kind to him. Cochise didn't like his company as much as Joe's, but he'd always found Hoss to be gentle and good to him. He stood quietly while Hoss groomed him, and went right to his feed bucket when Hoss filled it.

* * *

Frank knew there was no way he could skulk around a spread like the Ponderosa without being noticed, so he took a chance. He went to Ben Cartwright and asked for a job as a ranch hand. It was a busy time of the year, and men knew it. The Cartwrights were known for offering a fair day's wages for a fair day's work. It was not uncommon for men to come traipsing in and ask for a temporary job. Ben thought nothing of it.

On his way to the bunkhouse to put his things away, Frank happened to cross paths with Candy, who was taking Cochise out to the nearby pasture so he could graze and get exercise while he wasn't being ridden. Candy wouldn't have given Frank a second glance, except that Cochise suddenly shied.

Candy had already picked up on the horse's shyness about the lead rope and had taken to just leading him by the halter. He'd told the Cartwrights about the horse's shyness of the lead, and it was decided that Joe would handle it when he was well, as he had handled all of Cochise's training. In the meantime, Candy just worked around the animal's quirk and Cochise had been peaceable enough.

But as soon as the scent of Frank hit his nostrils, Cochise whinnied and attempted to rear, nearly dragging Candy up with him. The ranch hand struggled to bring him back down while Cochise twisted his head and tried to get away. When he came down, he kicked with his hind legs, then plunged forward hard enough to get free from the startled hand.

Frank, ignoring the pinto, had continued on to the bunkhouse. But seeing the horse loose, he remembered he had a job now and it wouldn't look good if he just stood and did nothing. So he started towards the pinto. Cochise laid back his ears, pawed at the ground and reared, striking out with his forelegs.

"Get back!" Candy practically snarled, "I can handle him."

A glance at Frank had informed Candy that he didn't know the new hire. He wasn't about to let somebody he didn't know handle Joe's horse. Not until he'd seen how the man dealt with horses. And besides, Cochise didn't much care for anybody he didn't know.

Frank wasn't eager to get near the horse, so he stood back. Cochise's ears came forward when Candy started to talk to him, and also when Frank backed off. Cochise didn't want to hurt anybody, but he didn't want to be hurt either. He had Frank's scent associated with misery, and he wanted to get away. The trouble was there wasn't any place for him to go except back into the barn, which he did the second he got the opening.

Frank was gone by the time Candy managed to coax the horse back out. Cochise stood in the yard and looked around, his nostrils flared. He knew Frank was still nearby, but no longer a direct threat. He obediently followed where Candy led, but he danced on his feet, trying to lift his head higher so he could keep a watchful eye out. His nervousness made him difficult to handle, but Candy managed it.

On the way back to the bunkhouse, Candy pondered the horse's sudden temper. He just couldn't figure it. Cochise was a one man horse sure, but he'd never been what you'd call a nervous horse. In fact, Candy couldn't think of any horses more steady under gunfire, storms or stampedes than the Cartwright animals. The horses usually handled all extremes without protest or apparent fear. Candy wondered just what those horse thieves had done to Cochise to make him act up that way.

He didn't connect the horse's temper with Frank, he merely assumed it was the fact that the new hire was a stranger and Cochise thought all strangers were bad now. He knew how a bad experience could change a horse's opinion, even given a lifetime of good experiences preceding it. In his experience, horses tended to think on the last thing that had happened to them, not what came before.

Even so, having looked at Frank in that high intensity moment got Candy to thinking. It seemed to him that maybe he actually had seen the man somewhere before, only he couldn't remember where. In any case, he got a bad feeling right off, though he was inclined to blame that on Cochise's behavior.

In the meantime, Frank was concerned that the little pinto's attitude towards him would give him away. It wasn't really rational and he knew it, but it seemed to him that the little horse had tried to attack him. The horse couldn't talk, but he was nonetheless a witness. Had he known a bit more about horses, Frank might have considered trying to befriend the horse. Instead, he at first sought to avoid Cochise.

But the pinto was brought in regularly so the injury to his back could be checked on. Every time he passed near the bunkhouse when Frank was inside, he shied and put up a fuss. Each time that happened, Frank noticed The Wolf becoming more and more perplexed by the horse's behavior. Sooner or later he was sure to put it together and figure out the horse had something against Frank.

In truth, Candy was no closer to figuring out what kept setting Cochise off. Each time it happened, he cursed under his breath and wished Joe would get better in a hurry and fix his horse. But it _was_ nagging at him where he'd seen Frank before. He hadn't entirely realized that it was Frank setting the horse off since the man often ducked out of view, erroneously thinking the horse wouldn't go after him if it couldn't see him, when in reality it was merely that the horse would choose to get away if he could. Even so, Candy had a bad feeling about Frank and he didn't know why.

It turned out to be harder than Frank had figured to get at Candy. During the week, the hands spent most of their time together, either in the bunkhouse or out working on fences or with the cattle or rounding up strays or whatever needed doing. During the weekend, Candy was unpredictable. During his off hours he was even more so, often disappearing for hours at a time, Frank didn't know where. Frank tried looking for him in town, but Candy only went there to fetch supplies or the mail, usually with a Cartwright or at least another ranch hand.

When Frank eventually caught Candy resting alone in the bunkhouse, he realized that it still wasn't his chance. Even if he shot The Wolf and lit out as fast as he could go, the Cartwrights would know who'd done it, and by that point he knew they'd go after him and wouldn't stop until he'd been caught. It wasn't that Candy was so special, just that the Cartwrights had a very refined sense of duty and justice.

If Frank had known anything about Candy, he would have found it odd that he could come up on the ranch hand without waking him, but he didn't. He'd also have found it odd to find Candy napping on a Saturday afternoon. But he didn't know Candy well enough to recognize the strangeness of it.

* * *

"I dunno. After all we been through, I sorta hate to bring it up," Hoss admitted.

Ben asked, "What is it, Hoss?"

Hoss sort of frowned and thought it over, "Well, I don't rightly know, Pa. It's just... well... the last few times I been workin' alongside Candy... it just seems like he ain't pullin' he weight like he should."

Ben sat back in his chair and sighed, "You've noticed it too then."

"Yeah, but, Pa... I don't think he's shirkin'. Not Candy. Not only does he know better'n to do a thing like that, he's a better man than that too."

"I know, and I agree," Ben said, "In fact, I'm sure he's putting his heart in it just like always."

"Then what?" Hoss wondered.

"I wish I knew," Ben said, "Maybe it's that he was hurt worse than we thought. Is he still horse shy?"

"Not that I've noticed," Hoss admitted, "He's reported trouble with Cochise though. Seems Cooch fights him going to and from the barn, but only sometimes. I dunno what to make of that. He's never had trouble with that pinto before."

"No he hasn't. Maybe we'll know more about it once Joe's ready to take care of him again. Maybe the trouble isn't with Cochise at all."

Hoss was silent for a time, and when he spoke again, it was with some hesitation.

"Pa... you don't reckon there's anything... really wrong with Candy. Do ya?"

"I honestly don't know, Hoss," Ben replied, "But I aim to find out."

He couldn't help but recall to mind how Candy had looked when David Beckett had found out about Firebrand. David had said that he didn't blame Ben, or Joe. But he looked very strangely at Candy before he left. Ben knew the ranch hand had noticed. All of them had.


	8. Crazed

Joe was up and around sooner than the doctor wanted him to be. Even though his father and Hoss had tried to keep it from him, he knew there was something they weren't telling him. As soon as he was alert enough, he asked them directly, and they were forced to tell him about Cochise. The moment he was strong enough to make it out to the barn and stay upright once he got there, he went to see to his horse.

Cochise had recovered more quickly than Joe, and Candy had been letting him alone. At Joe's request, he brought the horse in. Cochise wasn't difficult to bring in from the pasture or to get a halter onto. He shied at the bunkhouse, but Candy had gotten used to it and just slid along when he tossed his head, then got him back on track. He found Joe waiting in the barn. Joe had seen the horse shy.

"He does that every time?" Joe asked.

"Near enough," Candy replied.

Joe frowned. Cochise had come right to him of course, and Joe rubbed the horse's cheek thoughtfully. Moving gingerly, Joe went around the horse, examining him from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his hooves, from nose to tail. Seeing the horse appeared in the good condition Joe was accustomed to him being in, Joe stood back. He wanted to handle the horse himself, but he knew he shouldn't overdo it.

"Try walking him back again."

Candy did as he was asked, and Joe stood leaning against the barn door, watching. At the same spot as before, Cochise tossed his head and crab-stepped. Joe saw his ears flip back and his eyes roll.

"Hold him there, Candy. Right there," Joe instructed.

Candy stopped, and the horse continued to fight with him while Joe made his way slowly over.

"Whoa... whoa, Cooch... settle down... easy..." Joe said softly to the horse.

All the words in the world that anyone else could say wouldn't have gotten Cochise's attention so fast. Maybe other people would let harm come to him, but Cochise had faith that Joe never would. If Joe said it was safe to stand here, then it must be so. The horse quieted.

Forgetting about limiting his activity, Joe proceeded to walk Cochise past the point where he got nervous, then turned and walked him back. He felt the horse's tension mounting as they approached the spot. Joe stopped him, rubbing the horse's neck with his free hand until Cochise relaxed, then walking him forward again until the horse began to tense up. He stopped again, and patiently waited for Cochise to settle down. When they eventually reached the barn in this manner, Joe turned him and walked him back. Sensitive to his horse, he stopped before Cochise shied, never pushing him hard enough to get a protest, letting the horse take his time settling down, then continuing on forward.

Feeling a bit useless now, Candy stood and looked on. Eventually Joe turned Cochise and led him back to the barn.

"Now," Joe said, "What's this I hear about the lead rope?"

"If we hold him by the halter, he goes along quietly like you just saw. Anybody lays hand on that lead shank and he starts tossing his head and giving us a hard time," Candy answered.

"Show me," Joe told him, handing the horse off to him.

Joe would have preferred to do it himself, but his side was hurting him, reminding him that too much activity would be bad for him and make it take that much longer to recover. So he handed the horse back to Candy, knowing the ranch hand could cope with Cochise just as well as anybody for demonstration purposes.

Candy led Cochise out into the yard, out into the open so he couldn't hurt himself, and also so Candy would have enough room to get out of the way if the horse got too far out of hand. Only then did he transfer his hold to the lead rope. For a moment, Cochise did nothing, but Joe knew his horse's signs of distress. He saw the way Cochise shifted his weight onto his hindquarters and coiled them like springs. He saw the way the horse tilted back one ear, preparing to flip back the other. Candy had to know the horse was getting ready to react badly. But the explosion didn't come until Candy moved the lead rope. Before Candy could even take up the slack, the horse was on his hind legs, wheeling and plunging in the direction of the barn. Candy tried holding him for a moment, then let him go.

Cochise blasted past Joe on his way into the barn. Joe saw a repeat of the scene Hoss had described to him as Cochise paced and bucked, lashing out with his hind legs, ears flat to his head.

"Whoa, easy, Cooch," Joe said, stepping into the horse's path.

He had no fear of Cochise running over him. Any other horse might've given him pause, but he knew that Cochise would never hurt him on purpose, and that the horse would respond to him. Cochise did, coming at once to Joe and pushing against the man's shoulder with his nose, nickering uneasily.

"I see," Joe said, rubbing the horse on the jaw, "I see."

"I barely touched him," Candy remarked, sounding a little defensive.

"Yes, I saw that," Joe replied, running a hand down his horse's silken neck and not looking up, "I also saw you ignore his warnings."

Candy started to protest, but Joe cut him off.

"Oh, I know I told you what to do. It's alright. It's just you should know it's not unpredictable. Whatever those lousy horse thieves did to him, it's stuck. It wouldn't have to be much. A horse like Cochise... he learns fast, and he's got a long memory. He's used to being treated with respect, not having his warnings ignored. Even if they just hit him on the nose with the lead rope, that'd probably be enough."

Joe had no idea how close to right he really was, but he knew it didn't matter. To him, the cure seemed simple enough. Time, patience. Basically gentling the horse the way he'd done it the first time, letting Cochise tell him when he was ready for another step. But since other men had broken his trust, it couldn't just be Joe trying to win it back. He'd need Candy's help.

"Alright," Joe said, "Let's take him out to a corral, where we can really work on him. I'm gonna need your help with it."

"Sure," Candy nodded.

* * *

It would have surprised everyone to know that Firebrand had not died. In fact, he had found an oasis out in the desert, a source of water and grass among the deep canyons and gorges. A man would only find it by chance, but a horse could find it by scent. For several days, Firebrand had the oasis to himself. It was a good thing he had going, but a lonely one for an animal used to having the company of others of his kind.

But then there came a change, in the form of horses. Wild horses. The little band of horses had been forced to move from another waterhole because it dried up. The lead mare guided them unerringly to another water source she remembered, this time the oasis of Firebrand.

Firebrand had never needed to fear other horses, and he approached confidently. He was brought up short by a whistle of challenge. From the back of the band came charging a small, heavyset black stallion. The horse had short legs, a bull neck and a jug head. To the uneducated Firebrand, he looked like a pony, and nothing to be afraid of. To Firebrand's way of thinking, the bigger the horse, the more dominant he was. It was only natural. He'd never encountered a mustang.

He returned the challenge of the black, and ran to meet him. They struck chests and rose together, and Firebrand for the first time realized the disadvantage of his great height, for the mustang nearly shoved him over on his back. He struggled to keep his balance while the black went for his neck with teeth and hooves. Firebrand felt the black's teeth rake down the front of his shoulder and he squealed.

They broke and came down on all fours, then immediately rose against each other again. This time, Firebrand broke it off. The black chased him, and didn't stop chasing him until he was clear of the oasis. Firebrand felt the sting on his shoulder from the bites, and bruising from the other stallion's hooves. That had been no fight among yearlings seeking to assert their dominance. But the black likewise was not interested in actually killing Firebrand. As soon as the challenger was an acceptable distance from the herd, the black returned to guarding his mares.

Firebrand, ousted from yet another waterhole, continued on into the desert, a more nervous animal than before.

* * *

Candy knew what it was that Joe wanted, though he couldn't figure how it was going to improve Cochise's disposition any. But he followed instructions. Whenever Joe told him to push the horse, he pushed. Instructed to stop, he did so. He talked to the horse, petted him, and eventually succeeded in getting him to do no more than brace his feet at the tug of the lead.

"He shouldn't have done that," Joe said from where he was resting against the corral fence, "We pushed him too hard. Here, bring him over here. By the halter."

Candy obeyed. He didn't know about Cochise, but he for one was getting very tired. And Joe looked about worn out just standing up. Candy figured Mr. Cartwright would come out here any time and yell at Joe for being up too long. Joe had already ignored Candy's repeated suggestions that they stop.

"Ah, he's done for the day," Joe said after taking a close look at Cochise, "Bring him back to the barn and we'll brush him down, put him away and try again tomorrow."

"Better let me do that, Joe," Candy said with a weak attempt at a grin, "Before your father comes out and takes a shotgun to me for letting you stay out this long."

Joe thought it over, then nodded, "Yeah, okay."

As soon as Joe was gone, Candy's grin disappeared.

It hadn't escaped his notice that he'd been tired lately, or that his side still hurt from time to time. He didn't see what he could do about it other than keep going like always. It sort of snuck up on him. He'd assumed that he was just tired from the long drive, followed by the frenzied hunt for the horse thieves. It didn't really dawn on him that anything was amiss until he gradually realized he wasn't bouncing back as fast as it seemed like he ought to. The graze on his shoulder was rapidly healing, but the rest of him still felt beat up and weary.

Now even brushing a horse seemed almost too difficult. Were it not for the standards demanded by the Cartwrights, he probably would have just put Cochise in his stall and left him. But the Cartwright horses were always immaculately groomed, checked thoroughly before and after work, cared for to the best of human ability. And they were worth all that work, Candy knew. These horses had served their masters in some very difficult situations, situations that would've broken lesser animals.

After he finished caring for Cochise, Candy found he had reached his limit, which seemed to be decreasing by the day. He sank down to a sitting position there in the pinto's stall, not really caring if he was caught napping. He was too tired to care. The little pinto ignored him and played with the water in his bucket, making it splash with his muzzle. The horse's play went on for long enough that Candy went to sleep where he was. How long Cochise would have played with his bucket was unclear, but he was suddenly interrupted by a rude intruder.

Frank had seen how dog tired Candy had been of late. When he failed to exit the barn, Frank suspected the hand had gone to sleep. It had finally dawned on Frank that he could just kill The Wolf with a knife and get it over with quietly, then walk away without anyone knowing about it for hours.

The scent of Frank set Cochise on edge. He stopped playing and began to back up, flattening his ears. He snorted, tossing his head irritably. As Frank crept into the barn, Cochise began to paw at the floor of his stall, digging at the straw bedding. Cochise had so far only shied from Frank, but now there was nowhere for him to go. Frank had heretofore never entered the barn, and Cochise had thought it a safe haven. But now the man had followed him in here.

Frank's body language was a bigger trigger for the horse. If he'd simply walked in as if he belonged, Cochise might not have been too suspicious. But he came creeping in, tensed up and intent on violence, and Cochise could see it as much as smell it on him. When Frank started to enter the stall, Cochise let out an alarmed neigh and reared up, telling the man in no uncertain terms to back off; thinking this skulking, sneaking individual was coming after him.

This of course woke Candy, but he didn't see Frank fall back out of the stall. He had eyes only for the inexplicably enraged little pinto rearing over him. He pressed himself against the wall of the stall while the horse struck out with his forelegs, and ducked out the moment the horse touched down. Frank hung back in the shadows of the barn, trembling with fear, knowing that if that horse hadn't so badly startled Candy that he would've been caught, and The Wolf would have killed him for sure.

Cochise continued to neigh, kicking at his stall, rearing up and striking at the air. When Frank persisted in staying in the barn, Cochise did the only thing he could: He kicked out of his stall and took off at a gallop, almost running over Candy; not seeing the hand until it was too late to correct his course. Fortunately, Candy was edgy enough that he rolled clear in a flash.

Hoss and Ben came out to check what was going on, and found the ranch hand on his hands and knees, staring helplessly after the bolting pinto.

"What happened?" Hoss inquired, giving Candy a hand up.

"I don't know," Candy admitted, "He just went crazy on me and took off."

"I thought you an' Joe spent the mornin' gettin' him settled down," Hoss said.

"I thought so too," Candy replied, then sighed, "Well, I guess I better go after him."

"No," Ben said, then clarified, "No, that horse knows the Ponderosa's land better than you or I ever will and you'd never catch him if he didn't want you to. He'll be back when he gets hungry."

Candy was silent for a moment, then he said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, he should never have gotten away from me."

Ben didn't know how to respond to that. It seemed like an opening to suggest that a lot of things had been getting away from Candy lately, but Ben couldn't think of a way to do it that wouldn't sound like an accusation. Before Ben could gather his thoughts, a strange look crossed Candy's face.

"Say, you know that new hire? Frank... something or other?" Candy asked.

"Buckley. What about him?" Ben inquired.

"I just figured out where I know him from."

"A spooked horse helped you remember somethin'?" Hoss asked, "That's funny, usually it knocks all the sense outta a man's head, not into it."

Candy smirked, then sobered, "I remember seeing him, a long time ago, years back. It was a card game. And he was cheatin'," Candy nodded to himself, seemingly very satisfied.

"And what has he done lately?" Ben asked, knowing well how men could change over time.

"Oh nothing," Candy said, "Nothing I know of. It's just been buggin' me is all. Funny thing though... Joe's horse throws a fit whenever he sees Buckley," Candy shrugged dismissively, failing utterly to recognize the import of such a realization.

He can hardly be blamed for that, because neither Ben nor Hoss saw the importance of it either.

"Well," Candy sighed, "Back to work, I guess."

* * *

Frank waited for Candy and the Cartwrights to disperse before coming out of the barn, relieved that they were getting so used to Cochise's acting out that they didn't even think to check the barn for something that might've spooked him. Even so, Frank knew he had to get rid of that blasted pinto. It seemed like every time he got near it, Candy's memory improved. Worse still, Joe Cartwright was beginning to stir sooner than expected on account of that horse, and he'd only need one look at Frank to recognize him. Frank felt like, if he could just get rid of the horse, he might buy himself the time he needed to do away with his brother's killer.

He set out on horseback to try and catch the pinto. If he'd paid attention to Ben Cartwright's advice, he wouldn't have bothered. The Ponderosa was a big spread, and it was easy to get lost if you didn't know it well. And nobody knew it better than Cochise, whom Joe had ridden over every inch of the ranch at one time or another. Cochise, now badly frightened of Frank, had absolutely no intention of letting the man catch him. If not for Frank, Ben Cartwright's prophecy would likely have come true, and Cochise would have come home when he got hungry.

Instead, he ran from the man on the sorrel.

Cochise had been in enough races for his life with Joe aboard to know that his best chances were out in the open where he could fully extend himself, and on steep and treacherous trails where most horses would not dare set foot. Most horses didn't have as much experience running from men with guns as Cochise did. Cochise had no experience with men trying to shoot him, but he'd always been able to sense his rider's fear. He'd put his heart into running because his master asked it of him, and because he sensed the life and death nature of the situation. Now he had no rider, but a lifetime of becoming involved in unfortunate and dangerous situations had prepared him to escape on his own.

And so, Cochise fled across the Ponderosa, seeking to outrun his pursuer. He didn't leave the land he knew so well, because unknown terrain always bothered him during a real chase. Here he could gallop freely, because he knew every pit and place where tree branches tended to fall. He knew where the soil was loose, where the mud near flowing creeks would make his feet stick. He knew every rock, every tree, every steep incline and cleared trail.

There had always been a certain wildness to Joe, and too there was a wildness in his horse, though whether the horse had been picked because of it or whether the horse had merely learned it from his master over the years nobody could say for sure. Whatever the case, Joe had ridden Cochise over the Ponderosa for fun, to work, and to work out his anger, and sometimes in flight for his life. Whatever the case, Cochise had always been up for the challenge. He was up for it now. Frank's sorrel didn't have a prayer of catching up, especially not with a rider on its back.

Instead of taking the main trails, Cochise took the narrow wildlife paths he'd learned to run on years before, when he was younger and his master more reckless. He worked his way steadily towards the north pasture. It was more habit than anything; Joe had frequently ridden up that way when he was upset. Cochise knew a few secluded glens as places of secrecy, security and rest. That danger could follow him to those spots never entered his head, because it never had before.

Because his master always reined him in at the tops of rises, Cochise stopped when he reached one. Though he'd never really understood what his master's motivation was, he had amused himself by executing a little half-rear, and then playing with his bit while he looked around. He had no bit now, and the half-rear seemed empty. But he looked around, listening and sniffing at the air. The man was still following him.

Laying his ears back, Cochise kicked at nothing with one hind leg, and then set off downhill.

Cochise hadn't cantered more than a few yards when there was a sudden explosion of sound near his forelegs. Dirt and rock fragments spat up into his face, and he snorted. Cochise knew to fear bullets, he had seen them kill men and horses alike. Even though they had never struck him personally, he could gather their danger from having observed it, and he broke into a hard gallop, heading for the shelter of the trees. The ground exploded behind him, stinging fragments cut into his back legs and urged him faster. It didn't take him long to get outside the rifle's range, though he didn't know that and kept right on going until he reached the trees.

There he paused, looking over his shoulder. Seeing the man still following him, he broke into a canter, unable to gallop through the trees. Through the stand of trees there was an arroyo. Cochise sprang down into it, then straight up the other side. It took time for Frank to reach it. When he did, his sorrel balked and refused to go up the steep side of the arroyo. Frank was forced to look for a easier way up, and that took time. Time that Cochise used to his advantage, putting miles between himself and the man who hunted him.

* * *

Firebrand was confused. He could smell water, but he couldn't seem to find it. He'd been circling for some time, trying to pinpoint the source, not realizing that if he simply dug a little, he'd find it. He paced around, kicking up dust. As he passed near a thorn bush, a noise emanated from below it, startling him. Rather than run at the warning rattle, the horse approached curiously. Feeling threatened, seeing its warning ignored, the rattler struck.

Firebrand squealed and lunged back as the snake's fangs dug shallow furrows in his left foreleg just above the hoof. He took off at a gallop, more scared than hurting, at least at first.

It wasn't long before he slowed, and then began to limp. His leg was rapidly becoming more painful. At the same time, a raging thirst woke in him, worse than he'd ever had before. Head lowered, tail down, Firebrand limped across the sand, searching for water that just didn't seem to be there. He'd left the underground waterhole behind now, and there was no fresh scent of water that he could find.

He was hot, tired and thirsty. Worse still, he was hurting. He didn't know where to go to save himself, and so he wandered aimlessly. His fire finally spent, he looked at the desert with dulling eyes. At last he understood why there were no men here. There were only horses with violence in their hearts, horrifically biting bush creatures, and unbearable dry heat. This was no place for him, he understood that now. If he'd known how, he'd have turned back.

Men had water. Men had shade. Men had food.

But there were no men here, and Firebrand didn't know which way to go in order to find any.


	9. Finding Cochise

"Cochise didn't come back last night, so I'm going out to get him," Joe said, in answer to Candy's inquiry about what he was doing saddling a horse.

Pa and Hoss had ridden out early that morning to check on the south pasture and make sure the cattle were moved to high ground before the storm moved in. It wasn't a typical time for a storm, but they could all feel it coming in the wind the night before. It would arrive before the week was out.

"Not without me you're not," Candy replied from where he sat on his horse, which had come back to the Ponderosa on its own after running off during the gunfight, "Your pa would kill me if I let you go riding off by yourself while you're supposed to be recovering."

"Yeah, he probably would at that," Joe answered, "Just so long as you don't think you can stop me."

"Me? Try to stop you?" Candy said, feigning shock at the idea, "I'm not crazy."

"Good," Joe said, tightening the cinch on the bright bay he'd brought in from the horse pasture.

It was Joe's habit to sort of roll up onto Cochise, but between his healing injury and the height of the bay, Joe was forced to use the stirrup to get up like everyone else did normally. He set off without preamble, and Candy let his horse just naturally follow, as was his wont.

"Just where do you intend on looking for him?" Candy asked as they got under way, "He could be anywhere by now."

"No. I know him," Joe said, "Hoss told me you said he spooked and bolted. This time of year, and since he didn't come home, he'd be heading up to the north pasture."

"How do you know?" Candy wanted to know.

"I ought to. I've gotten lost in thought and let him pick his way enough times."

Candy chewed over that response and accepted it. There was probably someone out there that knew horses better than Joe, but Candy had never met that someone, and assuredly nobody knew Cochise better than Joe did. If Joe said he could predict where the horse would go, Candy had to believe him.

They rode the well-traveled path to the north pasture for awhile, then Joe suddenly turned his horse off into the scrub brush to the left.

"Where are you going?" Candy asked, reining his horse in, "I thought we were headed to the north pasture."

"We are," Joe replied nonchalantly, "But Cooch wouldn't take the main trail. Too tame. Come on."

He knew he didn't have to explain wildlife paths to Candy, who'd traveled through some of the roughest country imaginable, on his own, with no sign of other humans for days or weeks at a time. The moment they were on the path, Candy recognized it for what it was.

"He was here, see?" Joe pointed to a patch of soft soil, where there was the partial print of a horse.

Candy nodded. Joe rode on ahead, looking for more signs of Cochise. The path was too narrow for two horses to go alongside each other, and besides it was good to keep a little distance because the path wasn't exactly easy to negotiate. They went slow, though Joe pushed his bay faster than Candy would have dared, probably because he knew the path and was used to a horse that knew it too.

But Candy hung back, letting his horse take his time picking his way. The roughness of the trail was clearly hard on Joe, but he was ignoring it, so Candy did too. What he couldn't ignore was his senses, trained by a lifetime under threat of one kind or another. Joe was a respectable tracker, but he was distracted by pain and focused only on Cochise. Candy, following along, caught sight of a hoof print that didn't belong to the horse they were tracking.

Frowning, he wondered where that track had come from. For a short time, he assumed it must just be the bay Joe was riding. The track was pretty fresh and looked familiar, so it was possible. But then he took a look at the tracks the bay was leaving and knew it wasn't.

"Joe, hold up," Candy said.

Joe reined in his horse and looked over his shoulder, "What is it?"

"We're not the only one's following Cochise," Candy said, and pointed to the ground, "There's another horse with a rider that passed this way, probably last night."

Joe frowned, looking at the tracks and seeing Candy was right, "Nobody went out after Cochise, did they?"

Candy shook his head, "Mr. Cartwright said he'd come home when he got hungry so we shouldn't worry about it."

Joe nodded, "I'd've said the same thing last night."

He frowned more deeply, and the bay shifted beneath him, evidently detecting his rider's disquiet.

"Who would be out here?" Joe asked, "Nobody would ride this path if they didn't know it, not with a perfectly usable trail from here to the north pasture."

"Nobody would ride this path if they _did_ know it," Candy corrected, "Nobody except you and that crazy horse of yours."

Joe made a face, but kept looking at the tracks with concern.

"It's worse than whatever you're thinkin'," Candy said finally.

At this, Joe looked up questioningly.

"I've seen these prints before," Candy told him, "Outside Bittner."

Comprehension dawned and Joe opened his mouth to speak, closed it without saying anything, looked back at the tracks, and finally asked, "Are you sure?" in a tone of voice that said he knew perfectly well that Candy wouldn't say it if he wasn't sure.

"I'm sure," Candy confirmed.

"Well I'm not letting him have Cochise back," Joe said, "Let's go."

He kicked his bay down the trail before Candy could get a word in edgewise. Candy hesitated, regarding the prints with no small amount of suspicion. It seemed to him that nobody would come all this way and go to all this trouble just for Cochise.

Something Candy had learned over his life was that people didn't always behave in a sensible manner. He'd also learned to trust his instincts. And right now those instincts were telling him that the man riding that horse was something he should be worried about. Joe seemed to be only concerned for his horse, but of course that little pinto was more valuable in Joe's eyes than anything else in the world. He might as well have been wearing blinders. Nobody came all this way just for a horse. Well, almost nobody.

It was possible, Candy thought, that this might be someone with something personal against the Cartwrights. After all, shooting Joe and stealing his horse did look a little personal, and plenty of people seemed to have grievances against the Cartwrights, though typically for no real reason. Because the Cartwrights were successful, some people hated them for it, and sought to take what they had from them.

It did cross his mind that this thief could be here for him and not Joe at all. Candy had killed the other thief after all, probably a friend or relative of the remaining one. But he couldn't figure why anyone would be following Cochise if they wanted to get revenge on Candy. That didn't make any sense, and so he dismissed the possibility out of hand. Far as he was concerned, it was a lot more likely that the man trailing Cochise either had a grudge against the Cartwrights, or possibly Joe specifically.

Candy had ridden along to look out for Joe, but now he was doubly alert. He knew that ordinarily Joe could look out for himself alright, but the idea that someone was out to get Joe made Candy nervous, especially since Joe was bound to be a slower draw than usual right now. Of course, he knew also that he himself was in no real shape for a fight either. If he'd thought it would have any effect, Candy would have suggested to Joe that they turn back. But though Joe had mellowed from his youth, the Joe Cartwright Candy had come to know was still stubborn and fiery, and more bonded to his horse than ever. Candy knew the only thing talk would accomplish was to make Joe mad. There was no point in that, so he maintained his peace.

The bay Joe was riding stumbled on the path and snorted a protest. Out of consideration for the horse's limitations, Joe slowed him down and rubbed his neck reassuringly. Looking at the tracks left by Cochise over this section, Candy was surprised to find the pinto hadn't been walking, but had in fact been going at a pretty swift looking canter. He knew the pinto was agile and fleet, but it still surprised him to see how the horse moved even without a rider to urge him on.

Suddenly, Joe pulled the bay to a stop.

"You could travel faster on the main trail," Joe said, "Maybe you'll overtake them."

"What's this me stuff?" Candy asked, reining his horse in, "I'm goin' with you. If I can go faster on the trail, then you can too."

"No, they could double back on us. Better that one of us stay on this path."

"Nu-uh, no way," Candy shook his head, "That's just plain foolish and you know it."

Joe glared at Candy, but it was only a brief flicker of the old temper that had once ruled his life. Candy was right, and Joe knew it. He also knew that he could pressure Candy into doing things his way, but it would be an abuse of power. Candy had never known Joe in his reckless youth, he knew Joe as an intelligent man, as well trained as any soldier, and he trusted Joe's judgment. Joe felt he had already betrayed that faith once recently in sending Candy out after the two horse thieves.

It was much too soon to do such a thing again.

"Yeah, yeah you're right," Joe said, "We'll both go."

He turned his horse and cut through the brush and Candy followed him.

* * *

Frank was uncomfortably aware that he was falling farther and farther back from the pinto. He'd stopped overnight, and saw from the tracks that the pinto had kept going. Frank had seen the horse was valuable immediately, but following the horse's trail gave him a far better appreciation for the pinto's true worth. He'd never seen a horse move like this one did. It was almost more like tracking a burro.

The horse had stopped by a seasonal stream for a drink, and Frank was amazed to see that he'd first cooled himself out, walking around, back and forth before finally dipping his head to drink. Frank guessed he probably had only taken a few sips, then gone back to walking, then had another drink. The horse's breeding didn't matter much now, it was all about the sense he had in his head. The little pinto knew to limit his water intake all on his own, could pick his way at speed over rough terrain, and would probably never approach a rattlesnake nor let a cougar sneak up on him. He would inform his master of any wolf or coyote in the area with a snort, and probably wouldn't panic under fire. You couldn't put a price on a horse like that.

Cochise's opinion of Frank was only getting worse in the meantime. The man kept pushing him, chasing after him. Even though he hadn't been in sight since the day before, his scent was on the wind. Cochise kept on moving. He was curving back from the north now, knowing the border of the Ponderosa land as well as he knew his own stall. He trotted along the edge of the property line as if there were a fence there, then suddenly turned back in the general direction from whence he'd come, finding the beginning of the deer trail he wanted.

He wasn't going straight back, he never did if he didn't have to. Instead, he looped his way around, avoiding the cattle herd in the area altogether. He noticed the cowhands observing him from a distance as he crossed a ridge, but he didn't pay them any mind and kept on purposefully.

"That's Joe's horse, ain't it?" asked one hand of the other.

"Sure is, but Joe ain't out ridin' now, not hurt as he is, 'specially not bareback. Guess he musta turned the critter loose or somethin'."

"Maybe it got out on its own. Think we should round it up and bring it in?"

The other hand shrugged, "Looks like he's headin' back fer home anyhow. 'sides, I ain't got a mind to try and run him down. You've seen that horse gallop, ain't ya?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Now imagine how fast he'd be without a rider."

"I see yer point."

The two hands were conscientious workers of cattle, but they weren't horsemen much past what it took to sit on a cow pony. Besides which, their job currently was to keep an eye on the cattle. There'd been a wolf spotted in the area, and he didn't seem to be of a mind to leave. They weren't inclined to leave the cattle unguarded so long as he was around, especially not to go chasing after a horse which might have been turned loose on purpose for some reason. Not without orders to the contrary anyhow.

So Cochise went on unmolested, and bought himself more time as Frank was stopped by the realization that there were cowhands down in the valley. He couldn't follow Cochise's path, and had to skirt around and hope to pick up his trail. That took him time, and Cochise gained still more ground.

By now, Cochise was getting tired. He decided to take a break from the rough paths he'd been following, and departed them, favoring instead one of the major trails from the north pasture, where the land was clearer and the ground smoother, and a lot easier on a horse's hooves and legs. He trotted along easily, prepared to bolt either way off the trail if he needed to, but not expecting trouble.

Suddenly he stopped and lifted his nose to scent the air. He'd caught just a whiff of a familiar and welcome scent. He stood very still, sifting through all the myriad odors in the air, finding the one he wanted. With a snort, he broke into an eager canter. He had just caught scent of his master.

* * *

Joe pulled his bay to a stop, listening to something. Candy, slightly behind him, came to a stop a moment later. He listened, but didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. A loud whistle from Joe startled him, and consequently his horse shied a bit. Candy stopped the animal and waited.

A few moments later, he heard the rumble of hooves on the hard packed dirt of the trail they were on. Not long after that, Cochise came into view, galloping around a stand of trees. Ears pricked forward, head and tail high, the little pinto ran right to his master and came to a sliding stop that startled the bay Joe was riding. Cochise took a nip at the bay's ear, then shoved his muzzle into Joe's outstretched hand, nickering softly.

Joe petted him for a long moment, then said, "Go on, Cooch, get along home."

The horse snorted and set off. Joe smacked his rump gently as he went by and Cochise increased his pace to a canter. Joe turned his bay and headed for home. Candy followed. But he was still uneasy. For some unaccountable reason, he felt that something or someone was back there, stalking them. He got the feeling that the man who'd been tracking Cochise wasn't far behind.

He stopped his horse and looked over his shoulder. He saw nothing, heard nothing, but his every instinct warned that there was danger. He kicked his chestnut into a trot and hurried to catch up with Joe. His instincts were better than he realized. No more than a mile back, Frank was gratefully leaving the deer path in favor of a well-traveled trail. He knew he didn't have to hide himself now. If anyone saw him, he could come up with some excuse. After all, he was honestly employed now, and had every right to be on Ponderosa land.

But Candy didn't know that, and gradually began to think he was just being unnecessarily jumpy. Tired as he was feeling, he'd be jumping at shadows before long. Cochise had probably lost his tracker the night before. Assuming he'd kept to the sorts of deer paths Candy and Joe had briefly traveled, he would have put miles between himself and his pursuer at the least.

Candy didn't realize it, but Joe wasn't quite as out of it as he looked. Joe had heard Hoss and his father talking the other night, and he'd seen for himself yesterday that Candy just wasn't on track like he should have been with Cochise, being slow to react and not as sharp as he normally would be.

That was why he'd sent Cochise on ahead. The pinto would canter all the way home and put himself in his stall, be waiting for them when they got back. Joe expected he would be safe enough there. In the meantime, he and Candy rode slower. If Candy asked, Joe planned to admit his side was paining him more than he'd expected, rather than tell the greater truth, which was that he didn't think Candy was up for a faster ride. But Candy didn't ask, he just rode along quietly.

He did seem to look over his shoulder a bit more often than Joe thought of as normal. It was like he was nervous, looking for something that wasn't there. Joe figured Candy was worried about those horse tracks he'd identified earlier. Joe was concerned too, but not as much as Candy was. Not for the first time, Joe wondered what had really happened outside Bittner after he was shot.

Hearing a rider coming, Candy jumped and turned, then relaxed, recognizing Frank and thinking nothing amiss about seeing him there. Joe was less nervous, and was therefore a beat behind him. When he turned, his eyes went wide, but he didn't hesitate.

"Candy, that's him!" Joe cried, and kicked his horse forward as Frank drew his gun.

Candy, now used to the sight of Frank, didn't react quite as fast as he had at the initial sound of hoof beats. Fortunately, Frank's instinctive first shot was aimed at Joe, who had already repositioned, sending his horse leaping off the trail, then spinning around with the intention of getting a shot off.

Rather close to Frank's sorrel now, Candy turned his own horse and kicked it forward. Before Frank could get another shot off, the chestnut slammed into the sorrel's shoulder, and Candy tackled the man while both horses attempted to bolt. Joe cut off Candy's horse and caught him.

The fight wasn't a long one, but it was brutal. The two combatants never gave Joe room to intervene, though he stood ready to do that; they stayed close, rolling in the dust, and Joe's impression was that each was doing his best to kill the other. And then the gun went off. Frank, underneath Candy, kicked the man away from him and quickly rolled, getting his feet under him. Joe pulled back the hammer on his pistol and aimed for Frank, not sure who -if anyone- had been hit when the gun went off, but taking no chances.

"You stay right where you are," Joe said fiercely to Frank, then more softly inquired, "Candy?"

Candy didn't say anything for a moment, then said, "Ow."

Joe didn't dare look away from Frank.

"You alright?"

"Enough," Candy replied, getting up slowly and retrieving Frank's gun.

Only then did Joe spare him a glance, and observed Candy holding his side.

"Did he shoot you?" Joe inquired.

"Nah, but he kicked me pretty good," Candy replied, panting to catch his breath.

"I couldn't catch the sorrel," Joe said, addressing Frank with his next remark, "So I guess you'll just have to walk."

For the sake of caution, Candy got his lariat off his saddle and used that to tie Frank's hands in front of him. As if Frank was a steer Candy was going to lead, he wrapped the other end around the saddle horn, and swung into the saddle. Joe noticed he was stiff, and grunted once he got up on the horse's back, and there was a slight wheeze to his breathing, suggesting he was hurt more than he'd let on.

"Alright, let's go," Joe said.

They had to ride slowly for the sake of their prisoner, but Joe noticed that Candy seemed really out of it now, barely able to keep on the saddle and hold the rope at the same time. If Frank noticed it, he gave no sign of that, and went along quietly. Now he was caught, he didn't seem to have the heart for a battle.

"Never shoulda taken that dang blasted pinto," Frank muttered.

"No," Joe agreed, "You shouldn't have."

Frank looked from Joe to Candy, but saw no sympathy from either of them.

He shook his head unhappily, "All this... just for one lousy horse."

"A horse you wanted bad enough to kill for," Joe said coldly.

Frank looked up at him, more surprised than he should have been to hear the quiet anger in Joe's voice.

"You may have forgotten it," Joe hissed, "But I haven't."

"Yeah, just like I haven't forgotten that _he_ killed my brother," Frank replied, nodding at Candy, who seemed not to hear him.

"Way I hear it, your brother tried to kill him first," Joe said, "He just did what he had to."

"Don't we all?" Frank inquired.

"No," Joe replied, "No, self defense is one thing. But I wasn't armed when you shot me. I wasn't even going for your gun. If I'd been killed, that would've been murder, and you knew it. Not everybody does that. Most people know better than to do that."

"Yeah well..." Frank grumbled, "Next time I'll make sure the job's done."

"No you won't," Joe said, "I won't play judge and jury, but I expect we've got enough on you to hang you. At the very least, you'll be going to prison for a long time."

"Maybe so," Frank replied, "But before I go, I'm taking him," he nodded towards Candy.

If Candy heard the threat, he offered no sign of it.


	10. Limit

"I don't see what I've got to go to the doctor for," Candy protested, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it.

"You said that horse thief kicked you in the side good, didn't you?" Joe inquired.

"Well yeah, but not enough to see a doctor."

"Are you kidding? You could barely stay on your horse all the way into town," Joe said.

"I was a little dazed is all," Candy said, "I'm alright now."

"So humor me; pretend you work for me, and do as I say," Joe suggested.

Candy looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he just sighed, closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, "Alright, fine. An' while we're at it, have him check and see if you tore open that wound of yours on the way out here, okay?"

"I'm not the one that dove headfirst off a horse," Joe reminded him.

"So humor me," Candy suggested.

It turned out that Candy was right; Joe had reopened his wound and it had bled. Joe received a sound scolding from the doctor, which included a lecture about his overdoing things.

"Now, I'm gonna let you ride home, but you take it easy, you hear?" the doctor said.

"I hear," Joe answered meekly, "Now, what about Candy?"

"What about him?" The doctor inquired, looking over at the ranch hand.

"That horse thief kicked him in the right side pretty good," Joe said, "and he favored it all the way here."

"I can speak for myself," Candy grumbled.

"Yeah, but you weren't going to," Joe replied calmly.

"Alright, let's see," the doctor said, walking over to where Candy was standing.

It was unclear who was most surprised when Candy yelped and flinched at the doctor's slightest touch to his side, Candy, Joe or the doctor himself.

"I think you'd better sit and let me examine you a might closer," the doctor said.

Joe saw a wary look flit through Candy's eyes, an uncharacteristically dark look for him. It was there and gone in an instant, and Joe almost thought he'd imagined it. But there was no imagining the caution with which Candy followed the doctor. It was clear he wasn't afraid of doctors, it was his reflexive distrust of anyone he didn't know very well, especially if they hurt him, on purpose or otherwise.

Though he would have preferred to spare Candy the embarrassment of having to be diagnosed in front of him, Joe got the impression that it would be best if he hung around nearby. The doctor had clearly seen the look in Candy's eyes, and regarded him as unpredictable. He was an experienced doctor, and he'd known normally peaceable men to turn suddenly mean once he started poking around at places that hurt, and he'd seen Candy around enough to know the ranch hand wasn't the most peaceable man in the world even on his best day.

"Try not to punch me, okay?" the doctor said once Candy was settled.

Candy, looking very worried, nodded without speaking.

This time he knew what was coming, but it didn't seem to better prepare him. He managed not to cry out this time, merely inhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the chair he'd sat in. The doctor didn't press him long, and moved on to lifting his shirt to have a look.

Joe was dismayed to see the patch of darkness on Candy's side, which spread from the lower part of his ribcage to just above his hip. Joe knew enough of medicine to know that was more than just a bruise, though there was that as well. He was surprised that Candy hadn't realized it for himself.

The doctor explored around the area with gentle fingers, testing where and how severe the pain was.

Joe waited quietly for the doctor's prognosis.

Finally, the doctor sat back with a sigh and said, "It's not as bad as it looks, or as it probably feels."

Candy and Joe both breathed a sigh of relief, as the doctor continued.

"However, just now, moving about is more dangerous for you than it is for him," the doctor, speaking to Candy, nodded to Joe when he spoke the last, "What you need is to stop moving for awhile."

"Come again?" Candy said.

"Go to bed, and stay there," the doctor clarified, "Failing at that, sit in a chair with a back you can lean on."

Candy was silent for a moment, looking more deeply worried than before.

"And if I don't?" he asked finally.

"Then that injury will most probably kill you. Eventually. If you go to bed and stay there, it should heal on its own, given proper treatment and time. But the most important thing is that you not move around."

"I can't really do that," Candy protested, "I've got work to do, and at this time of year-"

"Candy," Joe interrupted, "Don't worry about it."

In his friend's blue eyes, Joe recognized that old fear that he'd first come to the Ponderosa with. Joe knew it as the fear of being abandoned if he couldn't earn his keep. It wasn't a fear Candy -or indeed any man- was likely ever to admit to, but Joe saw it just the same, like a horse who has changed hands so many times he no longer thinks of any rider as his master nor any barn his home.

"We'll take care of you," Joe clarified as Candy continued to look at him worriedly, "Lord knows you've taken care of us enough times."

It took a moment for it to register with Candy. When it did, he let out a breath, and some of the tension left him. He still looked uncertain, but no longer frightened. Uncertain was something Joe could live with. But seeing Candy scared was something he had no stomach for. It just looked unnatural on Candy, who tended to have a relaxed, light-hearted approach to most things, including life and death.

"Can he at least ride home?" Joe inquired of the doctor.

"If he goes slow, and goes right to bed, I suppose it's alright," the doctor replied.

"I'll see that he does that," Joe promised.

The ride home was slower than Joe had expected. It seemed that Candy had been holding together just to get that second horse thief. Now Frank was in Sheriff Coffee's custody, the last of the fight seemed to go out of the ranch hand, and his exhaustion showed through plainly.

Candy and Joe rode side by each, sort of keeping each other upright on the ride home. The long day had caught up with Joe as well, and now the adrenaline had worn off, he was pretty tuckered out.

It was late when they got back, and Joe was relieved to see Buck and Chub were standing by the hitching post, waiting to be unsaddled and put up for the night. Cochise's welcoming neigh from the barn gained the attention of the house's occupants, and Hoss and Ben came out to see what was up.

"Where have you been, young man?" Ben asked of Joe, "The doctor told you not to go riding."

"Sorry, Pa," Joe said wearily, "I'll tell you all about it, but it'll take a little while."

"I imagine so," Ben replied somewhat sourly, though it was really only that he'd been worried about his son, wondering where Joe had gone off to and if he was alright.

Despite Joe's protests, Hoss helped him down from the saddle. In the meantime, Candy did his best to dismount without drawing any undue attention to himself, but he got dizzy and almost fell. He managed to catch himself and lean against his horse, but it hadn't escaped Ben's notice.

"Candy?" Ben inquired with a measure of concern.

"He's sick, Pa," Joe answered, knowing Candy would not.

"Well," Ben said, "Best come in the house then. Hoss can take care of the horses."

Candy didn't argue, but stood quietly facing his horse until he found his equilibrium again.

* * *

Firebrand had gone as far as he could.

His search for water had driven him onward, until he finally crashed through a fence to reach a waterhole. He'd scattered a herd of cattle before him, too tired and in pain to pay any mind to them. He walked into the hole until it reached his hocks, then stood there motionless for a long time, letting the cool wet take the worst of the burning out of his leg. Finally, he lowered his head and tried to take a long drink. But he wobbled where he stood, and only took a few sips before suddenly turning away from the water, intent on getting out of it. As he reached the bank, his hind legs gave out from under him and he sat down. Rather than fight to his feet, Firebrand simply lay down and rolled onto his side, half buried in the muddy bank.

Firebrand lay where he'd collapsed, and did not move for the rest of the night.

In the morning, Firebrand stirred as the sunlight touched his damp and matted coat. He opened his eyes, and watched as a startled calf scrambled away from him and ran to its mother. He tipped his ears, catching the sound of the cattle lowing to each other. The sound had been strange to him before, but now it felt comforting. Overnight, the sound of the cattle had become a symbol of peace, of assurance that everything was alright, that there was no danger nearby.

He snorted, clearing his nostrils, and then tossed his head. He rolled, folding his legs under him, letting the mud of the bank sink into his coat and skin. Then he got up, slowly and awkwardly, favoring his injured foreleg. He shook himself, turned, and lowered his head to drink the water. The water was cool and refreshing, and Firebrand felt stronger for it.

Limping slowly, Firebrand parted the cattle before him as he made his way to the grass they'd been eating. He pulled a mouthful from the earth and chewed it while looking around. He did not keep his head down as he grazed, but lifted his head frequently, checking for danger. After several minutes, he assured himself that there was none, and settled down. The cattle gradually came grazing back to where he stood, flowing around him peaceably. They were used to horses, it was merely the strange actions of this one that had been setting them on edge.

Now he'd shown himself to be harmless, they were willing to join him in his grazing.

* * *

After hearing Joe's report from start to finish, Ben assigned Candy to rest in one of the guest rooms. It was unclear whether it was his weariness or obedient loyalty to Ben that kept him from arguing. Either way, he wasted no time in going to sleep. Joe was a little harder to convince, because he was worried about what Frank Buckler might have done to his beloved horse.

"Don't you worry about him none," Hoss said, and then added the assurance, "I'll take good care o' that pony. You just get yourself well and do like the doctor said."

Joe looked like he'd argue, but then Ben pitched in.

"Go on, son. Up to bed. Cochise will be fine."

It had been a long day, and bed sounded unspeakably good, so Joe quit fighting it and went.

After Hoss went out to care for Cochise like he'd said he would, Ben found himself alone in his study, sitting behind his desk, absorbing the fact that his son had very nearly been killed again. If Candy hadn't been there... Ben didn't like to think about it. This was far from the first time Joe had been near death, but it was something Ben would never, _never_ get used to.

It hadn't escaped his notice that Joe might've been dead the first time if not for Candy as well. If not for Candy, Joe would very likely have bled out there in the desert, and Ben would have known nothing until it was far too late. And yet something drove Candy beyond that, drove him to keep trying to prove himself, like nothing he did would ever be enough.

And why shouldn't he think that? Nothing he'd ever done had been good enough for anybody before.

Candy never said much about his past, but Ben could see it in his eyes, in the way he acted. Candy was used to being treated like he was expendable, never fully trusted, never really belonging. Even his initial bargain with Ben had been defensive. He'd insisted on an arrangement which allowed him to quit or be fired any time, for any reason or no reason at all. It was obviously out of self preservation. He was used to people trying to hem him in for their own gain, and turning him out when they were done with him. He'd come to see that as just the way people interacted.

It was evident that Candy had been taught to fight, to hide, to be suspicious of any offered hand; whatever trust or faith he might have been born with had carefully been trained out of him, leaving him ever on the outside, always at a distance, always on the verge of bolting like a spooked horse. But even in spite of that, there was a loyalty to the man, a sense of honor and duty that couldn't be beaten out of him. Been had seen it on that trail where they'd first met. Candy had always asserted that he returned to camp with that army horse out of survival instinct. But Ben knew Candy was at his most stealthy when working alone. No, he hadn't come back to camp for his own gain, he'd come back to help people that needed it.

It had been just a faint glimmer of a better man than he pretended to be, but Ben had seen it. He'd trusted Candy ever since, even when circumstances suggested he shouldn't. He just wished that Candy could learn to trust him.

* * *

It wasn't very long before Joe was up again, though a bit more cautious than before. He'd gotten carried away, overdone it, and he knew it, was feeling it all over his body. But he came to breakfast anyhow, and firmly announced his intention to go out and see Cochise later on that day.

"How's Candy?" Joe inquired when he took his accustomed place at the table.

"I checked in on him this mornin'," Hoss supplied, "I don't think he's moved since last night, and it don't look like he intends on wakin' up any time soon neither."

"I think he was a lot closer to the edge than he let on," Joe said.

"I just wish he would've told us," Ben commented, spooning sugar into his coffee and stirring it, "Instead of making us find out the hard way. He could have killed himself, or gotten someone else killed."

"Well, Pa," Joe spoke up, "I don't think he knew how bad it was. And anyway, I don't think he's used to having anybody lookin' out for him when he gets hurt."

"That's certainly true," Ben said, sipping his coffee to see how hot it was.

"It'd sure be nice if he'd trust us," Hoss remarked, "Just a little."

Joe looked perplexed for a moment, and observed that Ben agreed with Hoss.

"He does though," Joe said, turning to Ben, "That's what I was trying to tell you back in Bittner, Pa. You said that he was a grown man, able to make his own decisions, remember?"

"Yes," Ben answered, "I remember."

"Well that's true. Of course it is," Joe said, then shook his head, "But that isn't all of it. Pa, Candy didn't want to go after those horses. I told him to. He knew it wasn't smart, but he went anyway. Because _I_ told him to. Not because he didn't have a choice, Pa... but because he trusted me. I told him to do something, and he trusted that it needed to be done, and could be done, even though he thought differently. I don't see how you could ask more trust than that."

"I reckon you got somethin' at that," Hoss admitted.

"I know I have. And that isn't all."

"Oh no?" Ben inquired, raising his eyebrows curiously.

"You didn't see him working with Cochise, or with the doc. Only reason he stuck it out with either of 'em is because I asked him to," Joe explained, "Himself, he wanted nothing to do with them. He didn't really believe we could help Cochise."

"He say that?" Hoss asked.

"No, but I could see it in his eyes. But it didn't matter. I said I could fix my horse, and he believed me enough to hold the lead of a horse that goes crazy every time someone grabs that rope," Joe sat back, looking at the expressions of surprise on Ben and Hoss' faces, "Y'know, I'm beginning to think you're both blind, 'cause you can't see what's in front of you, and you're worried about a problem that just doesn't exist."

Ben thought about that. It was true he hadn't known about what Joe just told him and he didn't doubt what Joe had seen, but he had a feeling his son was misreading it.

Joe interpreted it as trust, but Ben suspected it was actually loyalty. The two often went hand in hand, but they were not interchangeable. One meant that Candy would do what they asked, but the other meant he felt secure in so doing. Either alone had a limit, but together they had none.

Ben sighed and shook his head. It was a complicated issue, and not one that could be solved over breakfast. Perhaps it didn't really need to be solved at all. In any case, he decided to change the subject to the usual daily matters of the ranch. Hoss and Joe must have noticed, but they went along with it.

Eventually, Joe said, "I wonder when this storm is going to come in."

"You hankerin' to get rained on?" Hoss asked.

"No, but the land could sure use it," Joe replied, "It's been a dry year."

"That's for sure," Ben agreed.

"That's easy for you to say, Little Joe," Hoss said, "But you ain't got to ride around in it. I'm gonna be doin' your work and my own, and I ain't eager to be gettin' wet."

"What work?" Joe wanted to know, "I just finished a cattle drive. I was due for a break. And anyway, I've got Cochise to worry about right now anyway."

"If you worried less about that pinto and more about gettin' well, you'd be up and about before the storm hits," Hoss said, well aware that this was a gross exaggeration, but enjoying fighting with his brother just for the heck of it.

Joe was equally amused by the argument, and replied, "Yeah well, if you want to take the next undeserved bullet, you just go right ahead and tell me. I dunno about you, but I'm getting tired of being shot when I'm not looking for it."

"Maybe if you looked, you'd learn when to duck and you wouldn't get shot so much," Hoss said.

"Yeah well, maybe if fewer people shot me in the back-" Joe began, but Hoss interrupted.

"Aw, you wasn't shot in the back an' you know it."

"Not this time," Joe said.

"Boys, please," Ben spoke up suddenly, "Stop talking about being shot. Not at the breakfast table."

"Sorry, Pa," Joe said meekly.

"Yeah, Pa," Hoss echoed, "We don't mean nothin' by it."

"Yes, boys, I know," Ben told them, "I'd just rather you pick another topic."

"Sure, Pa," Joe said, then turned to Hoss, "Hey, how 'bout that wolf? You caught up with him yet?"

To them, even though they'd both faced death from a gun more times than they cared to count, it was just a friendly conversation and good argument topic. But to Ben, it was his sons, reminding him of how close they'd come to death, and how often, unintentionally pointing out that their luck could not hold forever, that someday one of those bullets would hit just a little harder, go a little deeper, or they would be just a little older and no longer as fit, and then they'd be gone.

Ben had outlived three wives, the last thing he wanted was to outlive even one of his children.

"No, and I don't expect we're goin' to," Hoss replied, "'sides, he's been leaving the cattle be. So long as he sticks to rabbits and pheasants and steers clear of our calves, we've got no quarrel with him."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true," Joe replied mildly, but clearly he didn't agree.

Years prior, Joe had been attacked by a wolf and mauled. Granted, he had been hunting it at the time for killing cattle, but it still had left him with a certain bitterness towards the breed. Not that he'd ever been fond of wolves to begin with, but something about the feel of teeth sinking into his arm had solidified his animosity. Generally, Joe could be considered fond of animals, and so long as they didn't bother him he wasn't of a mind to bother them, but the wolf was one animal he had no love for.

* * *

"Joe, you sure you oughta be workin' that horse right now?" Hoss inquired.

"Well I couldn't work him earlier," Joe replied, "Doc was pretty clear about how long I'm allowed to be up and moving at a time."

"Well yeah, I know, but this comin' storm is makin' all the animals edgy. Do ya really think now's the time to be tryin' to cure a horse of spookin'?"

"Cochise isn't scared of any bad weather," Joe replied, "Are ya, Cooch?"

He patted the side of the horse's neck and led him slowly out of his stall by the halter. Cochise stepped lightly, looking pretty wired to Hoss, but maybe Joe was right, maybe it wasn't the storm making him edgy. Maybe it was just what had happened the day before that had set him on his toes.

"Get the gate for me, will ya, Hoss?" Joe requested as he led Cochise around to the nearby corral.

Hoss opened the gate, and Joe led his horse through it. Hoss shut the gate behind them, then climbed up on the fence to watch. He knew Candy had done most of the physical work the day before, but Joe seemed set on doing it himself this time.

Hoss knew as well as Joe did that you couldn't guarantee a horse was really gentled until he was gentle with more than one person. Just because one person could get a horse to be led quietly, it didn't mean just anybody could do it. But Hoss figured that Joe thought he'd have an easier time getting Cochise to cooperate if he laid the groundwork before asking Hoss or one of the hands to lead the horse. What he couldn't figure out was what had changed from the day before, when Joe had Candy working the horse.

Maybe Joe merely felt stronger today. Or maybe he'd seen something yesterday that made him uneasy about letting someone else work with his horse. Or maybe it was the coming storm. Whatever Joe said, animals got edgy and unpredictable in changing weather, and it was ideal if they were handled by those they knew best, and who knew them as well. Or it could be that Joe had merely taken all the standing back and watching he could tolerate yesterday.

Joe led Cochise to the center of the corral, gave the horse a final pat, and slid his hand down from the halter to the lead rope. He stood still, talking softly to the horse, clearly having seen something he didn't like. Hoss noticed the pinto's ears slowly move back and forth, listening but uneasy. Only once the horse's ears relaxed did Joe reach out and stroke the animal's neck.

"One step at a time, okay?" Joe whispered to the horse.

Rather than actually lead the horse with the rope, when Joe turned and set off across the corral, he merely walked in a manner that conveyed the expectation that the horse would follow. Cochise didn't wait for him to take up the slack, and merely went along behind him. More than once, Joe had led Cochise with no rope at all. Their father had taught them how to do it, to use their own movements and manner to control a horse even when a rope wouldn't do it, but Joe had made an art of it with Cochise, making it look more like a dance than leading a horse.

Hoss didn't need Joe to explain what he was doing. As he'd said, he was taking the horse one step at a time, stopping whenever Cochise became uncertain or antsy, then waiting him out until he was calm again before going ahead once more. It always amazed Hoss that his fiery, hot-tempered little brother could have such patience for a horse. Joe had also ridden his share of broncs, and would go to war with a horse if he had to, but when he had the time -particularly as he got older- he seemed to prefer taking things a bit easier. He said it made better horses, and Hoss didn't doubt it, but time and expense were always a factor on a ranch, and the notion of taming a horse gentle-like was so alien to most of the hands that it just wasn't possible to do it with every one of them and still get any real work done.

Still, it seemed like Joe favored horses to cattle, though perhaps his true love was the timber business. If there was anything Joe knew better than horses, it was how to take care of business with trees so that the resource wasn't wiped out and the contract was satisfactorily filled. Years ago, Adam had remarked to Hoss that Joe's scheming mind did best when turned towards trees, how to sell them, how to cut them, how to move them, how to make sure he didn't wipe them out entirely in the process. Hoss had argued that horses were where Joe's true skills lay. Rather than argue, Adam shrugged and said that -either way- it was best if Joe kept his mind on horses and trees, instead of whatever else he might start thinking about.

Cochise balked only once, and that was when Joe felt a pang in his side and for a moment seemed to forget what he was doing with the horse. Putting a hand to his side, and moving towards the fence, he failed to go slowly enough for Cochise. The little pinto neighed and tossed his head in protest.

Rather than keep hold of the horse, Joe dropped the line and went to the fence to use it for support.

"Joe!" Hoss hopped down from the fence and ran over to him.

"I'm alright," Joe said, "Just give me a second."

"Second, nothin'," Hoss replied, "You been out here more'n an hour already. It's quittin' time."

"Okay, but I'm gonna finish with Cooch first," Joe told him.

He pushed away Hoss' helping hands and went to where the pinto stood quietly as if he'd been ground tied. Cochise pushed his muzzle towards Joe, looking for a treat in his jacket pockets when he approached. Joe shoved his muzzle aside and took hold of the lead rope once more.

Using the same approach as before, he led the horse from the corral, the gate of which Hoss opened for him. Cochise followed along obediently, his head down in a relaxed position.

Probably out of sheer ornery stubbornness, Joe didn't lead the horse to the barn. Instead, he led Cochise over to the bunkhouse, and stopped where Cochise had spooked before. The little horse didn't seem bothered a bit by this, so Joe turned him around and led him back. Cochise tossed his head briefly as they went into the barn itself, but after looking around for a moment and scenting the air, he satisfied himself that there was no danger and then followed Joe inside.

"You just gotta push the limits, don't ya?" Hoss remarked.

"Long as I'm alive," Joe replied mildly, and began to groom his horse.


	11. Storm

Ben hadn't slept through a heavy storm in years. Back when his boys were small, each of them in his turn woke to the sound of thunder and rain pounding on the roof and would cry out in alarm and keep doing so until Ben came to comfort him. Years of raising children had trained him not to bother sleeping during a storm. Now that he had no young boys to comfort, his body nonetheless remembered its experience and wouldn't let him sleep until the storm had passed.

None of his sons remembered ever being afraid of thunder, and would tease him good naturedly about letting a little rain keep him from sleeping. Ben never told them why, and they had never asked.

By the time the real storm hit, Ben was downstairs reading and listening to the wind wailing outside, the rain slapping down on the roof and sides of the house. Lightning flickered in the windows. A moment later, a clap of thunder loud enough to shake his bones rolled through. No sooner had it subsided than Ben heard a soft thump above him. At first, he thought maybe it had been a tree branch, even though there should have been none close enough to the house to hit it. Then he realized what it had been. He laid aside his book and went up the stairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom where Candy was staying while he recovered.

He knocked softly, but didn't get an answer. He hesitated. It was one thing to walk in and check on one of his boys, but Candy was another matter entirely. Still, on the one hand, it was Ben's house. And on the other, Candy had been declared sick and injured, so Ben felt some obligation to check on him. Satisfied with his reasoning on both counts, Ben opened the door and entered the darkened room.

A brief flash of lightning showed the bed had been abandoned, and another revealed that its occupant had left it in favor of wedging himself in a back corner facing the door and window.

"Candy?" Ben inquired gently, but didn't get a response.

It didn't surprise him. Candy had gone and sat himself in a corner, making it fairly obvious he was operating on reflex and probably wasn't in possession of all or even most of his faculties. Ben suspected he didn't know where he was, the storm had startled him awake and he'd probably moved suddenly, causing himself pain as a result. That, combined with recent life or death situations was probably enough to cause him to react with pure instinct for self-preservation.

Rather than approach him, Ben turned to the lamp on the dresser and lit it. Once he could see, it was obvious Candy wasn't really operating consciously. Ben had seen it in his boys before when they were sick, injured, and especially when they were feverish. Familiar surroundings and the sound of their father's voice had always been enough to bring them around, but Candy didn't have either of those things. To him, this was a strange room, and Ben was also practically a stranger, when compared with how well known he was to his sons.

"Candy?" Ben repeated, "It's alright. You're safe."

After a few seconds of taking shallow, shuddering breaths, Candy finally looked at Ben. For a long moment, he seemed not to recognize the older man. When he finally did, his breathing leveled off and he relaxed somewhat. He seemed a little puzzled, but no longer frightened.

He looked around the room, and it seemed to take him longer than it should have to recognize the place. He blinked a little when lightning flashed in the window, but the thunder didn't seem to disturb him while he took in his surroundings and gradually remembered where he was.

Once Candy relaxed, Ben crossed the room and offered him a hand up. Candy accepted it mutely, looking a little bit embarrassed that Ben had found him hiding in a corner. Ben noticed he was still trembling, but trying not to show it.

"I'm not usually upset by storms," Candy said meekly, not quite looking at Ben.

"That last rumble of thunder was enough to startle anyone," Ben reassured him, though he suspected Candy might also have been having a nightmare before the storm woke him, based on the fear that had been in his eyes when Ben had first entered the room.

Ben led him over to the bed and sat him down on it, but made no attempt to convince him to lie down again. He thought for a minute to leave the room, but then his parental instincts got the better of him. He sat down on the bed as well and was surprised to notice that Candy's trembling got worse as he sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from the storm.

"I could leave," Ben suggested.

"If you want to," was Candy's only response.

Ben gathered what Candy didn't say from his tone. He didn't especially want to be by himself.

"You know, I haven't slept through a thunder storm in years," Ben said, "All that noise and light outside the windows..." he shook his head, "I don't know how the boys sleep through it."

Ben was just saying it to make Candy feel more at ease, and the hand was sharp enough to know it.

"Thanks," he said, still not looking at Ben, "But you don't have to try and make me feel better," he sighed wearily, "When I woke up, I didn't know where I was, I couldn't remember. For me, that's always a bad thing. Usually means someone hit me on the head and dragged me off to kill me or try and frame me for something I didn't do."

His voice was surprisingly steady. If Ben hadn't helped him stand and wasn't sitting so near him now, he'd never have noticed the shivering that had overtaken the younger man. Nothing in his voice or expression suggested the after effects of the fear that had so shaken him.

"I take it that happens a lot," Ben remarked.

"Oh yeah. Trouble always finds me somehow, wherever I go," he started to wrap his arms around himself as he did when he felt the need to defend himself, then stopped, "Sometimes I think I'm just plain bad luck," Ben heard the unspoken apology, and weary doubt.

"I raised three sons, each as different as could be" Ben told him, "And yet I could tell you about all of them finding some kind of trouble or the other for the rest of the night. There's no trouble you could bring on this house that we haven't seen and dealt with before."

"Maybe not," Candy conceded, "But it seems like since I got here, all you've done is bail me out of jail for one thing or another," he shook his head unhappily, "And now I got Joe hurt because I wasn't watching out like I shoulda been, let him ride all over the countryside... and now I'm not even earning my keep."

"Candy..." Ben began, then sighed and sat back to think over his response.

Candy looked at the floor, and tried to control his shaking. Belatedly, Ben realized it wasn't the storm that scared him, nor was it pain making him tremble. He realized that it was Ben himself that scared Candy. Candy was terrified of losing his place on the Ponderosa, even more than Ben had suspected, but he was far too proud to beg, too used to being abandoned to even admit he wanted to stay. Like as not, he didn't even know himself well enough to realize how much it mattered to him.

"Candy, it's my understanding that you only did what Joe told you to. The first time, you had no reason to suspect Joe would be bushwhacked while you were gone. And the second time, so Joe tells me, you saved his life. At the risk of your own."

"I didn't plan it that way," Candy said quietly.

"What a man plans to do is never so important as what he actually does," Ben told him.

For the first time, Candy dared glance at him, then looked away again. Ben wondered who had hurt him so badly that he was terrified to trust, even after all Ben had done for him. He wanted to ask, but he got the feeling that Candy would avoid the question, or get riled up about it. He'd never said much of anything about his past, and didn't look inclined to start now.

"Whatever your plans were," Ben said, "You've stood by us, even when you didn't have to or have any reason to. And Joe especially. I'd say you've more than earned a place to stay when you get hurt," he paused, then added meaningfully, "Especially since you were hurt because of something _I_ asked you to do in the first place."

"This wasn't your fault," Candy said firmly, shaking his head.

"No more than Joe's being shot was yours," Ben replied evenly.

Candy looked like he might argue, then he just grinned wryly.

"I guess you've got me there."

Ben nodded, then changed the subject, "Well, I don't think either one of us is going to be getting any more sleep tonight. What's say we go downstairs and see if we can't figure out how to make coffee without making too much a mess of Hop Sing's kitchen?"

Candy hesitated, wariness in his eyes, then he nodded, "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."

Ben didn't know if he'd really made any impression on the younger man, but at least Candy had stopped shivering. They spoke no more about it. Sitting in the living room with coffee and a fire going, they instead talked casually about ranch business. Cattle, horses, land, fences, what the storm was liable to knock down or tear up, whether or not they should expect flooding.

Candy had obviously not been raised to the business they discussed, but he had a sharp way about him, and had quickly picked up the finer points of ranching. He understood the animals, and the money management, and also dealing with other people, including sellers, buyers, employees and rivals.

If he could only be convinced to stick around, Candy might easily become the most valuable ranch hand Ben had ever had. Certainly his loyalty and penchant for having Joe's back couldn't be discounted. More than once, Candy had entered into a fight with the odds against him in support of the Cartwrights, and Little Joe in particular. Ben's boys already owned and managed parts of the Ponderosa for themselves, but someday they would inherit the whole thing, and they would need good men working for them, men who could be counted on to work even when nobody was supervising, and to stand by them against any adversity, be it animal, weather or man. You couldn't just buy that kind of ranch hand, you had to be lucky enough to find him.

The trouble with Candy was that he didn't appear aware of his own value. Oh he knew well enough what his set of skills was worth, but that was a far cry from knowing his value as a person. As a person, he didn't seem to think he was worth much to anybody, and that's probably because he never had been treated as if he was.

Ben knew it would be bothering Candy more and more that he couldn't do the physical work for which he'd been hired. Ben was perfectly happy to give him the time to recover, but got the sense that Candy's nervousness about not pulling his weight around the ranch would do more harm than good, and possibly lead him to do something foolish before he was ready for it, or -worse- he might quit and leave because his sense of duty wouldn't allow him to stay on if he wasn't doing work to earn his place. Ben decided to be preemptive about it, solve the problem before it arrived.

"Say, Candy," Ben said lightly, as though a casual thought had only just occurred to him, though he'd actually been thinking on it for quite some time before the storm had ever arrived.

"Yes sir?" Candy inquired.

Despite his claim that he wasn't much for taking orders or saluting, he'd never once failed to treat Ben with what seemed like an excess of respect, as a subordinate to a higher ranking officer. That, coupled with Candy's remarks about having no love for the army suggested some experience with the organization. An experience that had left a clear mark on his character, both for better and for worse.

"How are you at reading contracts? Legal papers, things like that?"

"I guess I can read well enough," Candy replied slowly, thinking it over, "And I know a swindle when I see it, so I suppose I'd be able to recognize one when I read it too. Why?"

"Well, it just so happens there have been several offers on the herd we've got in the south pasture, and I haven't had time to go over them. What with the damage this storm is liable to do, I'll probably be too busy to get to them for awhile," this wasn't really true, Ben made it a habit to read in the evenings, even when he was very busy; that was part of how he'd become the success he was today.

"You want me to go over them?" Candy asked, sounding dubious.

"Well, you said you could read," Ben said reasonably, "And the doctor only said you were supposed to avoid physical activity for the next little while. It'd give you something to do, and it would take a load off my mind," that, at least, was true, though not for the reason Ben was indicating.

A war went on behind Candy's eyes as he looked steadily at Ben. It was obvious he was uneasy about having so much trust placed in him, especially in an area where he really didn't have experience, but he was equally uncomfortable with the thought of sitting around the house doing nothing.

Finally, he nodded, "Alright. Sure."

"That's fine. You can get started tomorrow," Ben suggested, "I'll be interested to hear your recommendations," it was a subtle way of saying he'd be checking Candy's work.

Since Candy didn't have experience with contracts, it would be reassuring for him and Ben both to have an experienced eye check over what he was doing, at least at first. Ben planned to offer him more paper-based work to do if he proved capable of handling it. Ben knew that not everybody was.

His oldest son, Adam, had taken to paper and reading like a duck to water. For Hoss, it was more like trying to bathe a cat. Joe was somewhere in between, his impatience and high-energy always made reading a chore, and he tended to try and skim text instead of reading it thoroughly, often missing important details as a result. There was no telling from the outside what sort Candy might prove to be at the task.

Only time would tell, Ben knew. He was prepared to wait and see.

* * *

Ben of course didn't mention what had happened during the storm with Candy, and the next morning Joe and Hoss were not surprised to find their father reading a book while waiting for his breakfast. Candy had eventually gone back to bed, and there was no evidence he'd been up in the night at all.

As ever after a storm, they went out to check on the horses in the barn before breakfast. They got back in just as Hop Sing was setting the table.

"Think Candy'll join us?" Hoss asked, clearly hoping not to have to wait.

"I don't think so," Ben replied, "He had a rough night."

"Don't tell me he can't sleep through a little thunder either," Joe said.

"Hey, just because you're both deaf, it doesn't mean everyone else is," the new voice startled them.

They looked up in surprise to find Candy descending the stairs, grinning good naturedly.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes," Joe joked.

"Good morning, Candy," Ben said before either Candy or Hoss could think of something to add to that, "Come join us for breakfast."

A shadow of doubt and unease, a ghost of what Ben had seen the night before, crossed Candy's face, then he said, "Don't mind if I do," and joined them at the table, adding, "Thanks."

"Just be sure to get all the bacon you want on the first go 'round," Joe recommended, "Hoss'll take it all before anybody else makes it to seconds."

"You know, I think I just figured somethin' out," Hoss said, "If you ate less like a bird an' more like a growin' boy, you'd be a lot taller."

"Ooh, shots fired!" Joe returned, "Pickin' on your poor, defenseless younger brother."

"You forgot little," Hoss suggested.

Joe reeled back in his chair, feigning being shot, much to Ben's discomfort.

"You wound me, brother," Joe said, "See? I'm wounded."

"Settle down, both of you," Ben interrupted, "This is a breakfast table, not a circus tent."

Candy started to laugh, then covered his mouth with his hand and unconvincingly faked a cough.

"Well," Ben said, "At least somebody at this table has the decency to at least _pretend_ to have manners."

"Oh well that's just because I have to," Candy remarked, and for a moment Ben thought he might be serious, until he delivered the second part of the line, "If I'd learned any, I wouldn't need to pretend."

Joe shook his head, "You should probably drink some coffee before you try being funny."

"Yeah, that one fell a little short," Hoss agreed, then smirked into his coffee cup.

Joe gave him a sharp look, but couldn't read in his brother's face whether that remark had been as purposeful a reference as it sounded.

"Well they can't all be winners," Candy replied indulgently.

"You just let us know when one goes by, okay?" Joe said, "We wouldn't want to miss it."

"Why you-" Candy began, but his attempt to feign irritation fell flat because he laughed.

Breakfast was a generally jovial affair. Joe and Hoss were perfectly comfortable poking fun at Candy as well as each other, and he gave as good as he got. They'd done enough trail riding, chasing after horses and cattle and being out on the range for days and weeks at a time that they were quite relaxed around each other, and they interacted little differently around the breakfast table than they would around a campfire. Ben did catch Candy glancing at him more than once, checking to be sure he wasn't crossing some line that was invisible to him, but unafraid to test out his limitations. Ben mostly sat back and let the young men have their fun with each other, often at one another's expense. He quietly ate his breakfast, drank his coffee, and enjoyed the fact that the three were having a good time.

* * *

After breakfast, Mr. Cartwright and Hoss rode out, and Joe went out to work with Cochise. After everyone was gone, Candy went over to the office and began to look at the papers on Mr. Cartwright's desk, feeling a bit like he was snooping, even though he'd been specifically assigned this job.

At first, some of the verbiage caught him off guard and he struggled with it, but gradually he learned to infer the meaning of individual words from the context of the sentence. He wondered why people used big, uncommon words in contracts, and why their sentences ran on so long. It seemed shady to him, but it soon became apparent that every piece of paper on the desk contained the same sort of language, so he supposed it must be normal. No wonder rich men started talking so fancy. Candy figured he probably would too if he had to spend too much time reading legalize.

At some point, he became dimly aware that Hop Sing came in and said something to him, but he was too deeply mired in trying to figure out a completely incomprehensible paragraph to notice or respond unless shots were fired. Eventually, Hop Sing let out a string of irritable Chinese and stalked off. Candy only finished the paragraph and looked up in time to see Hop Sing walk away, and he wondered what the man had wanted. He decided it must not be too important if Hop Sing wasn't sticking around to talk about it, so he went back to his reading.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Joe inquired curiously.

Candy jumped, not even having noticed Joe come in.

"I'm readin'. Your father told me he didn't have time to read all these proposals and contracts and asked me to do it," Candy replied.

"Better you than me," Joe said, eying the papers the same way he might a poisonous snake, "Just let me know when rigor mortis begins to set in, okay?"

That not being a term Candy was familiar with, he decided to ignore the jab, whatever it had been.

"You gonna stop for lunch?" Joe wanted to know, "It's late as it is."

Candy sighed and sat back, realizing that's probably what Hop Sing had been worked up about.

"I'm not very hungry," Candy said, "Besides, there's a whole nother stack here."

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Joe said, in a conspiratorial tone, "There is _always_ another stack. Now come on, take your lunch break."

Candy shrugged, and did as Joe asked.

After lunch, he returned to the papers, while Joe settled on the couch to read for awhile. After less time than he probably should have been resting, Joe got up and went back out to work with Cochise some more. For awhile, Candy continued reading, but at the first neigh from the corral, he got antsy and had to go check on Joe.

He arrived in time to see Joe lead Cochise over near the barn and bring him to a stop.

"What are you doin' out here?" Joe asked, clearly irritated from something Cochise had or hadn't done, and taking it out on whoever happened by, "You're not supposed to be up and around."

"And neither are you," Candy replied nonchalantly, "And, uh, I ain't out here wrestlin' a horse."

"It's not wrestlin'," Joe said defiantly.

"Sure looks like it," Candy told him, "What's the matter? Horse outsmart ya?"

Joe gave a glare that suggested Candy ought to shut up. But Candy didn't. He knew the reactions of too much work and stress when he saw them. Joe was overdoing it again, continuing to work on the horse even though he was tired and his side was paining him, and losing his temper as a result.

"Now, I'm no horse expert like you," Candy said, leaning his hip against the hitching post and crossing his arms in front of him, "But I _do_ know that no horse ever learned to behave for a man who'd lost his temper."

Joe looked like he'd make a sharp retort, but then he stopped. He dropped Cochise's lead on the ground and took a few steps away, placed his hands on the hitching post and leaned against it, inhaling deeply a few times, pointedly looking at neither Candy nor Cochise.

"Control the horse or he controls you," Joe said finally, clearly quoting something he'd been told, "Someone will be master of the situation, whether you like it or not."

Cochise stood where he'd been left, but looked over his shoulder at Joe curiously.

"Ah, you're not in trouble," Joe said, going back to the horse and rubbing his nose, "I just tried to push you too fast and you weren't ready. I'm sorry."

Cochise pushed against Joe's chest with his nose and then snuffled the man's hair. Joe rubbed the horse's cheek, then took him by the halter and led him into the barn. Candy watched for a moment, then went back inside, feeling like he'd done his good deed for the day, and also like he was about spent. He decided to turn in early, and work on the papers some more tomorrow.


	12. What Was Lost

"I tell ya, I've never been so happy to be assigned to fixin' fences," Candy told Joe, "For awhile there, I thought I was turning into a book keeper."

The wolf had finally caused his trouble out at the north pasture. He'd blasted into the herd and sent them running. They'd crashed through a fence and it had taken hours to get them rounded up. Joe and Candy, newly healthy according to the doc, were assigned the job of fixing the fence. Hoss said it was only fair, seeing as they'd missed out on the actual stampede in the first place.

"Maybe you'll start using words like regular folks again, huh?" Joe suggested.

"I dunno, I thought I might run for office. Likely I could impress the whole town with my big, fancy words."

"Or send 'em runnin' for cover," Joe said.

"Yeah," Candy grinned agreeably, "Or that."

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Joe was up on Cochise's back. He figured he'd worked out whatever sourness those thieves had put in, and Cochise was back to accepting a tug from a lead rope just as nicely as any horse ever could. Everything seemed to have worked out just fine.

That is, until they rode to the spot where Cochise had been shot at. Far as Joe and Candy were concerned, the horse suddenly halted and reared for no discernible reason, letting out a frightened squeal and then taking the bit in his teeth and bolting. He didn't go far, because Joe expertly got him back in hand, then turned him around.

Cochise's squeal and panicked flight had gotten Candy's horse worked up. The chestnut had reared, trying to pitch his rider. By the time Joe had Cochise aimed back to where he'd bolted from, Candy was turning his own horse in a tight circle, trying to get him back under control.

"What the heck got into him?" Candy asked, not looking up from quieting his horse.

"I dunno," Joe replied, "But I'm gonna ride him back, see if he does it again."

"If you're doin' that, I'm gettin' off the trail," Candy said, "I've had just about enough of horses rearin' at me for one lifetime."

"Cooch didn't rear at you," Joe protested, "He just reared in your general vicinity."

"Close enough," Candy replied, and reined his horse sharply off the trail.

Joe didn't stop to ponder Candy's new found unease around skittish horses. He turned Cochise back and waited for the tell-tale tensing of muscles, turning of ears and tossing of head that he'd failed to register the first time. But nothing happened. They rode past the spot without incident. So Joe turned Cochise around again, and started him back. This time the horse reacted, just as negatively as the first time. But this time Joe had a better hold on him, and Cochise merely half-reared and pawed at the air before coming back down, snorting and shaking his head.

It was clear that, to the horse's way of thinking, the direction he was headed mattered where the spot being alarming or not was concerned. It was not unusual for an animal to have such a specific fear, and Joe knew the solution to this was the same as the solution to the lead rope. While Candy looked on, Joe rode the horse around and around, repeating the process again and again, being patient and gentle with the horse every time, quieting him with expert hand and voice, until finally Cochise passed by the spot passively, only the tilting of his ears indicating any disquiet.

"I hope there aren't too many more bad spots like that," Joe said, "I'd hate to have to ride another horse because Cooch is too skittish."

"And if there are, just know I'm not takin' the blame for any work we don't have time to get done because you're ridin' that fool horse around in circles," Candy replied.

"Now, now," Joe said in a pacifying tone, "Let's not start fighting like brothers. I've already got two, and I don't need another one tellin' me what to do."

"I don't believe you've ever done anything your brothers told you in your life," Candy said.

"You haven't met Adam," Joe told him.

"No, but I've met you," Candy replied, "And that's all I need to know."

Joe started to reply to that, then he stopped to think for a minute. Finally, he smiled and laughed.

"You know, you're right?" Joe said, "I never did what Adam told me. Might've been better off if I had, but don't you dare let that get around."

"Never mind that," Candy said, "Let's just go get that fence fixed. I'd like to be through before dark."

* * *

Candy's concern proved to be a valid one. They finished just as it was getting too dark to see well enough to work, using the repair supplies that had been driven up ahead of them. They rode back in darkness, and that made Joe a bit nervous. He didn't like riding at night. There was too much out there that he couldn't see. Candy seemed unconcerned. Something told Joe that Candy had done a lot of night traveling, and in territory far more hostile than the friendly trails of the Ponderosa.

"Nobody's at the bunkhouse right now," Joe said, "Why don't you come and have dinner with us?"

"Sure," Candy replied, "I'll put the horses up and be in in a minute."

Joe clapped him on the shoulder to express his appreciation of that, and then went inside.

"Is that you, Joe?" Ben called from his office.

"Yeah, Pa," Joe replied, taking off his hat and gun belt before proceeding into the house.

"Candy with you?" Ben's voice inquired.

"He'll be in in a minute, Pa. He's puttin' the horses up," Joe answered, then asked as he walked into the office, "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter," Ben replied, setting aside the papers he'd been shuffling, "It's just that I had a very interesting visit with David Beckett earlier this afternoon while you were out."

"Oh?" Joe asked, "He still blaming Candy for that lost horse?"

Ben sat back in his chair and sighed, while Joe perched on the edge of the desk.

David Beckett had never openly said anything, he was more polite than that, but nobody had missed the looks he'd been giving Candy since the loss of Firebrand whenever he was around. It was probably easier to blame the hired help than the son of his friend, especially if he never actually said anything out loud.

"Well that's the thing," Ben said after a moment of silence, "It seems the horse has been found. Alive."

An incredulous look settled onto Joe's face and he stood up.

"Who found him?"

"Well, it seems he wandered into a cattle pen belonging to a rancher a few miles outside of Bittner. The rancher saw the brand, and recognized a valuable piece of horseflesh when he saw it, and has been looking for the owner ever since. Somebody in town must've remembered us. In any case, a wire was sent and David was all set to go and retrieve his horse," Ben paused, then added, "But I talked him out of it."

"What?" Joe asked, still standing and looking more perplexed than ever, "Why?"

"Because I convinced him that you and Candy were the ones who should bring that horse in."

"Pa..." Joe started to protest, but Ben cut him off.

"I know it may not mean much to you," Ben said, holding up his hand, "But you and Candy were responsible for bringing that animal in. Even if that means nothing to you, you must realize what it means to Candy. And to David as well."

"Of course it means a lot to me," Joe protested, "That isn't the point. Pa, you haven't seen Candy around edgy horses like I have. We ask him to handle that Firebrand again and there's no tellin' what might happen. Send me, send me with anybody... but let Candy alone. I think he's had enough of Firebrand."

"What about Firebrand?" Candy inquired innocently, having just entered the house without Joe or Ben noticing that the door had even opened.

"You know, you're gonna have to work on your entrances," Joe said, "You're liable to get yourself shot if you don't stop sneaking everywhere."

"I don't sneak," Candy told him, not bothering to point out that neither Ben nor Joe was armed at present, "And don't change the subject. What about Firebrand?"

"He's been found," Ben said, "Joe doesn't want to go get him."

"Pa, that's not what I said and you know it," Joe argued, "What I said was-"

Ben interrupted him, "He seems to think the both of you have had enough of Firebrand."

"And what have _you_ got to say about it?" Candy asked, looking directly at Ben.

Joe gave Candy an angry look, which the man flatly ignored. Joe might have been Candy's friend, but the world-wise ranch hand never forgot who the ultimate boss of the ranch was.

"It seems to me that the two of you left a job unfinished," Ben replied, "And you ought to finish it."

Candy looked at him for a long, quiet moment.

Then he nodded curtly and said, "Okay."

"Candy..." Joe began.

"Look, if you want to argue with your father, have at it," Candy said calmly, perhaps a little too much so, "I've got to pack my travel gear."

Candy looked from Ben to Joe and back again, as though checking to see if either of them were inclined to stop him. And then he went out, leaving Joe with his mouth open and nothing to say. Candy knew as well as anyone that Joe was not going to win an argument with his father.

"Did he just-"

"Joe, I think he just put you in your place," Ben replied neutrally.

"Well yeah, but-"

"Joe," Ben interrupted, "You've got to understand a man like Candy. He takes things like this very seriously. To you, it's just a horse, nothing more. An expensive horse yes, but a horse nonetheless. But to Candy, delivering that horse is more than that. A lot more."

"How do you mean?" Joe asked curiously, overlooking the suggestion that it wasn't a matter of pride and honor with him to get that horse back.

"Joe, what do you suppose you could do to lose your home here?" Ben asked of his son.

Joe cocked his head, looking very confused, then vaguely concerned. He thought hard about all the mistakes he'd made, all the reckless things he'd done, all the dangerous actions he'd taken, all the disastrously bad ideas he'd had, all the times he'd let his temper get the better of him. He thought very hard, clearly seeking the answer and not finding it anywhere among his memories.

"I... well... I guess maybe if I murdered somebody...?" Joe spoke it as a question.

"And what about Candy?" Ben asked, not responding in the affirmative or the negative to Joe's inquiry.

"I dunno, he's stood by us when things got hot more times than I can count. He's certainly done his share to help me out of some scrapes. He's a decent cowhand, and a good friend, and there's nobody better to have stand by you in either a gunfight or a brawl. I guess he'd have to do something pretty bad to get you to fire him."

"You know that, and I know that," Ben said, "But Candy doesn't. I don't believe that man's ever had a home before, and the more comfortable he gets here, the more he's afraid of losing it. He thinks of his value to us in terms of dollars, how much money he makes sure gets into our pockets. And so he's concerned about cattle, horses, trees, and all that, just as much as any good hand would be. And that's all to the good, he's very capable at what he does and whatever he doesn't know he's eager to learn. But that horse represents a huge loss, not just financially but in potential damage to my friendship with David. You have to remember that Candy probably wasn't raised with the same values as you, and all he knows is how much money means to people. He doesn't know how to think about it any other way. He won't feel like he's done right by us until he sees that horse safely into David Beckett's hands. Because of the money, and because it was me that told him to do it."

Joe frowned and thought it over, "I guess I understand, Pa... a little. I've been wanting to go back and look for that horse ever since we lost him, even though I thought for sure he'd died somewhere out in the desert. And I haven't got anywhere near as much to lose as Candy thinks he has. All I've got to lose is my pride, and that's not much in comparison."

"No," Ben replied, "It's not."

* * *

They set out early the next morning, and they were riding fast. They didn't want to over-exert their horses, but they were concerned about how long anyone could or would keep hold of Firebrand for them. They were concerned about losing him yet again, perhaps for good this time. And they were concerned that some innocent, unsuspecting person might be killed by the horse before they got to him.

And so they rode out after him just about as fast as they dared, though Joe found he did have to rein Cochise in a touch because the pinto was eager for a good long gallop after having been penned up so long during Joe's recovery and his own rehabilitation, whereas Candy's horse was happy with a more neutral and easy gait. Joe supposed maybe the horses were also picking up on the eagerness of their riders and Candy was just a might more easy in mind than Joe was.

It was a long ride, but it was made all the longer because every time one of Cochise's hooves touched dirt, Joe couldn't help but think of everything Firebrand might do in the second it took between Cochise lifting one foot and putting another down on the road. He couldn't help it, he'd seen how Firebrand could seem all passive and gentle-like, then turn mean as a rabid animal without warning. He'd seen the deadly intent in the horse's eyes, seen it in the flash of his teeth, the strike of his hooves.

Joe had avoided injury from Firebrand only because of his experience, quick reflexes and the fact that he had Candy at his back. Candy had avoided death by an even narrower margin. They couldn't expect Firebrand to continue misjudging his opportunities, nor could they expect someone to always be there to interfere with his killer ambitions at just the right moment. It wasn't possible for such luck to last.

Sooner or later, they were certain, Firebrand would turn on the men who held him. They wanted to be there to make sure he never got that chance.

The ranch was closer than Bittner itself, but it took a bit of doing to find their way onto the land. Once they found a fence, they figured they must be getting close. They slowed their horses, so as to look less suspicious to any cowboys who might be riding around. The best way to look suspicious and get yourself shot was by skulking in shadows, but galloping like the Devil himself was after you was another good way to take a crack at getting an early grave.

They found a rider waiting for them on a ridge.

"You Cartwright?" the young man inquired.

"I'm Joe Cartwright," Joe answered, "This here is Candy. We were told you've got a horse of ours."

"Name's Sam Fog," the man replied, "And we got your horse alright."

Joe and Candy exchanged wary glances.

"Follow me," Sam instructed, then turned his horse and kicked the animal into a refined trot.

Joe and Candy did as he asked. It wasn't a long ride to a ranch house with a barn to one side of it.

"Corral's out back," Sam said, "Pa's waitin' there with the horse."

He led them around back of the house, where they found an older man standing and leaning on the fence of the corral. Sure enough, Firebrand was there. But what halted them in their tracks was the fact that the horse had reached his head out so Sam's father could rub his forehead. Firebrand was gently lipping at the man's bandana and looked utterly serene and so unlike the beast they'd met that they hardly recognize him. In fact, had Joe not known horses as he did, he would have sworn it had to be a different animal entirely. The difference was like day and night.

"That your horse?" Sam inquired, taking in the startled looks.

"I... uh... well... yes, I think so," Joe stammered.

"Well, you better come have a look-see and make sure," Sam said, getting off his horse.

"Yes, I guess I better," Joe said, dismounting and handing his reins over to Candy, who didn't appear at all recovered from the profound shock of seeing Firebrand.

"Name's Fog," the man near the corral said, stepping away from the horse to shake Joe's hand, "Charlie Fog. I see you met my son Sam."

"Yes sir," Joe said, "I'm Joe Cartwright. Guy on the horse is Candy."

"Howdy," Candy said, managing to wipe off his stunned bunny look and touching the brim of his hat.

"How'd you come to find our horse?" Joe asked, gesturing towards Firebrand, "We didn't expect to see him again."

"Sam found him in with the cattle after the storm," Charlie replied, "Looked like he'd busted in to get at the water. Seemed to have been in a fight with another horse, and been bit by a snake too."

"Bitten by a snake?" Joe asked, his brow furrowing.

The horse looked healthy enough to him, but of course he knew it had been enough time that Firebrand would have long since recovered, as obviously the bite hadn't killed him.

"Yeah," Sam put in, "He was limpin' pretty bad, and boy was he glad to see me. I doctored him up as best I could, kept him in a stall 'til he got his feet under him properly again. Pa saw the brand on him."

"We ain't horse ranchers here," Charlie took up the story, "And I ain't no expert on horses. But I can tell an expensive animal when I see one. I figured he must belong to somebody, and that somebody would be wanting him back pretty dang bad."

"You could say that," Joe said, "Can I take a look at him?"

"Suit yourself," Charlie gestured towards the corral.

Joe cautiously let himself in. Firebrand had never gone for him when he approached, only when he moved away. Still, the strange behavior of the horse puzzled him, and he felt sure the animal just hadn't been triggered into an attack somehow. He couldn't imagine the horse had changed so much.

On a close look, Joe saw the scars on Firebrand's chest and shoulder, clearly from fighting another stallion, likely a mustang. He saw too the scar left by the snake bite, which had probably swollen up something awful. Firebrand withstood the inspection without complaint. Then came the time to move away. Joe backed up, waiting for a flicker of that old fury, but the horse stood nice and quiet.

"That's the horse, alright," Joe said.

Charlie and Sam, noting Joe's caution, looked at each other and shrugged.

"Well, you're sure welcome to have him back," Charlie said, "Nice as he is, he ain't a cow pony, and that's the only kinda horse we got any use for here."

Joe glanced at Candy, and saw the stunned look had returned at the suggestion that Firebrand was 'nice'. Joe felt the same way.

* * *

Candy took charge of Firebrand when they left, because the big bay shied away from the little pinto, who showed no sign of malice, assuming he even remembered Firebrand. Candy kept the horse snugged up this time, unwilling to make the same mistake he'd made before.

But Firebrand went along with them gentle and quiet-like. Neither of them believed nor trusted it.

The Fogs had offered to let them stay the night, but Joe and Candy preferred to camp out on the trail. Something about having Firebrand near other people made them nervous.

"Do you suppose that horse really has changed?" Candy asked when they bedded down for the night.

"I can't figure it," Joe replied with a shrug, "He hasn't tried for either of us all day. To look at him, you'd think he was just like any other horse."

Candy checked the coffee he was brewing, then poured a cup for Joe and passed it to him before pouring one for himself.

"Well," Candy said finally, "Maybe he just got tired of fendin' for himself, decided maybe people aren't so bad as he thought."

"Yeah," Joe replied doubtfully, "Maybe."

Joe was surprised to find Candy so mild in the presence of Firebrand. He would have bet just about anything that Candy wouldn't have wanted to touch the horse with a ten foot pole after what had happened, much less lead him. After all, this was the horse that had tried to kill him, and very nearly succeeded in the endeavor, come much closer to it than any of them had realized at the time.

But he'd been sort of cool and collected all day, much more at ease than Joe would have expected.

It wasn't until late that night, when he was woken by a sound he didn't at first recognize that Joe realized it was nothing but a facade. The sound was Candy muttering in his sleep. Urgently, fearfully. None of what he said was entirely clear, except that he called Firebrand by name. Joe didn't think it was his place to try and wake Candy, but he knew the ranch hand was having a nightmare, and its contents were no mystery. Joe lay in the dark and listened, resolving that he had to find a way to save his friend from that misery. Somehow, he didn't know how, he was going to end the nightmare that was Firebrand, without having to kill the horse in the process.

* * *

In the morning, neither of them mentioned it, and each had slept so poorly the night before that he failed to notice the other's weariness. What they did notice was that Joe happened to walk by right in front of Firebrand to saddle Cochise, and the big bay horse barely even looked at him.

Joe had set the saddle blanket on Cochise's back before he even realized what he'd just done. Then he looked over his shoulder at Firebrand, who looked back expectantly. Then Joe looked at Candy, saddling his own horse. Candy merely shrugged, and continued with what he was doing.

They made it home before noon, and turned Firebrand loose in a corral temporarily, so they wouldn't have to go and retrieve him from the larger pasture when David Beckett arrived.

"I just don't understand it," Joe said while he groomed Cochise, "If I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe that's the same horse."

"Well if it's not, I think we got the better deal," Candy replied.

"Candy, a horse doesn't just change character like that all of a sudden," Joe said, leaning against Cochise's shoulder and emphasizing his words by waving the brush he had been using in Candy's direction, "To get a horse to reform like that would take a lot of time, and a lot of experience. Even then, if it were my horse, I woulda shot him for what he did to you. A horse like that can _never_ be trusted."

"You sayin' a horse can't change?" Candy inquired, knowing Joe and his family's fondness for taking hard cases -both man and animal- and turning them around.

"No, I'm not saying that," Joe said, beginning to brush Cochise again, "But that wasn't a horse, that was a... a... a... _wolf_. And a wolf doesn't turn into a sheep overnight."

"I think you're mixing your metaphors," Candy said.

"I am not," Joe disagreed, "And if I was, how would you know?"

"Same way I know you have to aim the bristles at the horse if you want to get him shiny," Candy answered.

Joe looked at the brush, and realized he'd turned it over in his hand while he was gesturing with it, and was now scrubbing ineffectually at the horse's coat with the wooden back of it. He hastily turned the brush around.

"The mystery of that horse is really getting to you, isn't it?" Candy asked.

"No," Joe replied emphatically, "Maybe... a little. But only 'cause of you."

"Me?" Candy inquired, "What have I got to do with it?"

The reply was on Joe's lips, but he bit it back at the last second.

"Come on, out with it," Candy insisted, "You've been dancing around on eggshells whenever I so much as get near a horse, particularly that one. To look at you, one would think me bein' near that horse was a sign of the end times."

"It's just that..." Joe began, then cut himself off, gathered his thoughts and tried again, more softly this time, "It's that he hurt you, and I don't know why. I don't understand this horse at all."

"And that scares you?" Candy guessed.

"Doesn't it scare you?" Joe asked.

"Well sure it does," Candy answered, "But you're not the one that was pinned under another horse with Firebrand trying to stamp the life out of you. So why does he scare _you_ so much?"

"Because..." Joe halted, and Candy prodded him again.

"Just spit it out, Joe."

"Because I'm afraid of what he might've taken from you."

Candy was silent for a long moment, and Joe thought he detected anger. But when Candy spoke, his voice was low and oddly soft, and he didn't quite look at Joe.

"You know, sometimes I don't understand you, Joe," Candy said, gazing fixedly at the back of his horse instead of Joe while he spoke, "Nobody's... ever looked out for me like you. You and your family. At first I thought you maybe believed that you... owed me something, for sticking it out with Wabuska. Maybe you thought I'd make a good cowhand..." he trailed off, then started again, and it was clearly hard for him, "But I just did my job, what I was asked to do, and paid to do. And... and you're still... you're still looking out for me."

He met Joe's eyes briefly, then looked away again, evidently seeing something that scared him. Scared him a lot more than Firebrand ever could.

"It's what friends do for each other," Joe said, "They look out for each other, even when they don't have to and haven't got anything to gain."

Candy's reply was so quiet Joe barely heard him say, "Not any of the friends I've had before."


	13. A Choice to Make

"He's every bit as beautiful as advertised," David Beckett said, "Thank you for retrieving him, Ben."

"Oh well," Ben replied, "My son, Joseph, deserves most of the credit for that, along with Candy."

"About that," David said, "I was told Firebrand was trained, but from what your boy had to say about him now I'm not so sure. I think Firebrand needs to be tested out before I hire a rider for him, but I'm not as young as I used to be, so I was wondering... Joe's a pretty fair hand with horses isn't he?"

"David, you know he is," Ben replied, "But you'll have to ask him yourself."

A few minutes later, David got the chance to do just that, because both Joe and Candy came out to the corral.

"Hey, Mr. Beckett," Joe said, "Hoss said you were out back lookin' at Firebrand."

"He sure is a beauty, Joe," David replied, "And I'm grateful to you for getting him here safe."

"Be grateful to Candy," Joe suggested, "He's the one who did all the work gettin' him here."

"I just did what I was told," Candy said with a mild shrug.

"Well, whichever way it is," David said, "I'm sure happy to finally have this horse. One thing though."

"Oh?" Joe asked, "What's that?"

David proceeded to explain what he had just told Ben. He was concerned that the horse might be a danger to other horses and riders on a track, and potentially to his own rider as well. He wanted to have the horse tested out, to make sure he'd be alright on a track. Since Joe was good with horses and already used to Firebrand, he was the logical person to ask.

"Uh-uh, not me," Joe said, "I wouldn't get up on that horse for all the silver in the Virginia City bank."

David looked disappointed, and Ben appeared disbelieving.

"Candy on the other hand," Joe continued, glancing at the startled ranch hand, "He gets how Firebrand's mind works. I bet he'd be glad to get up on him. We could set up a course and I could ride against him, see how Firebrand goes with another horse galloping alongside him."

Candy looked distinctly uncomfortable with the idea, but he said nothing, merely stared at Joe. Ben's expression relaxed as he realized what Joe was doing.

"That sounds fine," David said, breaking into a relieved smile, "If you think Candy would be a good test rider for Firebrand, I'll take your word for it."

* * *

"Are you insane?" Candy demanded after Mr. Beckett and Joe's father had gone inside to have a cup of coffee, "That horse will kill anyone that gets on him, an' you know it too."

"Take it easy, Candy," Joe said using his best voice of reassurance, "I _don't_ know that, and neither do you. In fact, I don't think Firebrand's ever gonna give anybody any trouble again."

"How can you be so sure?" Candy asked.

"You let me worry about that," Joe told him.

"Easy for you to say," Candy retorted, "You're not the one that has to ride him tomorrow."

"No, I'm just the one who'll have to live with it if I'm wrong," Joe said.

"At least you'll be _alive_ to live with it."

"Well, if you're scared-" Joe began, but Candy cut him off.

"You're darn right I'm scared, and not ashamed of it, either. You and I both know that horse is a killer, I'd be a fool not to be scared of him. And I didn't hear you volunteering to ride him."

"Look, Candy, you know Pa wouldn't ask anyone to do something he wouldn't do for himself, don't you?" Joe asked.

"Well yeah, but-"

Joe cut him off, "And you know that I wouldn't do that either, don't you?"

"Well yeah, but-"

"So you know, whatever I said to Mr. Beckett, I'm willing to ride that horse, otherwise I wouldn't have volunteered you for it."

"Well..." Candy hesitated, "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But-"

"I also know that horse nearly tore you apart once," Joe interrupted, "But I don't think he'll do it again. I'd like you to trust me on that. I'll understand if you can't. And, if you won't ride the horse, I'll do it without another word about it. I was Mr. Beckett's first choice for the job anyway. Can you trust me?"

Candy fell silent. He looked at Joe searchingly, though what he was looking for Joe couldn't begin to guess. What Joe saw was a silent fear, not of the horse, but being unable to do what Joe had asked of him. A fear of what that might mean, not just how he might diminish in the eyes of Joe and his father, but how it might affect his chances of staying. Finally, Joe saw the fear his father had been so worried about. Candy was afraid of losing his home, but he was just as afraid of the horse that had nearly killed him. As he looked at Joe, Candy bore the look of an animal that's been cornered, and has no place to go.

Finally, Candy dropped his gaze and spoke, almost too quietly for Joe to hear.

"I guess we'll see tomorrow, won't we?"

It wasn't the answer Joe had been hoping for, but he decided to take it.

Earlier that morning, Joe had worked with Firebrand from the ground in the corral, and confirmed in his own mind that Firebrand was a changed horse. Candy didn't appear to realize it, but he'd said it himself, the horse had gotten tired of fending for himself. The desert had taught Firebrand some perspective, and he'd found the wilderness not to be much to his liking.

From the horse's behavior, Joe got the impression that, all his life, Firebrand had been cared for and catered to, which had spoiled him. When it came time to train him, whoever had done it had attempted it through force and fear. Firebrand was the sort of horse that just became more vicious the more harshly he was treated, though whether that came from his privileged raising or his fierce personality it was impossible to say for sure from the outside. The combination of being treated harshly, but in the end allowed to get away with whatever he wanted because nobody would risk hurting him or ruining his racing spirit had made him into a spoiled brat of a horse, and one who saw man as his enemy and inferior.

It had taken the desert heat, thirst, the savagery of a mustang and bite of a snake, but Firebrand had finally met his match. He had seen that there were things he could not cope with, and he had returned voluntarily to the world of men, where he knew he would be fed and cared for. He'd learned respect out in that desert and, though Joe wouldn't want to try and train a horse that way on purpose, he got the feeling that, because of his experience, Firebrand would never lash out at a man again, especially not if he was treated fairly.

Maybe the reason Joe had worked out was right, maybe it wasn't. But either way, Firebrand hadn't made a bad move the whole time Joe worked with him, even when he turned his back and walked away, an action that had formerly set Firebrand off without fail.

* * *

"Joe, I understand your reasons for wanting Candy to ride Firebrand," Ben said that evening when they sat down to talk it over, "You're worried his fear of that horse may have a detrimental effect on him, and I agree that it's possible."

"I hear a 'but' coming," Joe remarked when Ben paused.

"Have you thought any about what it might mean from his perspective, asking him to ride that horse?"

"How do you mean, Pa?" Joe asked.

"Riding the horse won't prove he trusts you," Ben said, "Not like you want it to. It'll say a lot more if he doesn't ride Firebrand, if he feels like he can say no to that without losing his job over it."

"Aw, Pa, I told him he wouldn't," Joe said.

"Yes, I'm sure you did," Ben said patiently, "But don't you suppose he's been lied to before?"

"I wouldn't lie to him," Joe protested hotly, "I wouldn't fire a man just for not riding one horse any more than you would."

"I know you wouldn't, Joe," Ben replied, "But you've backed him into a corner. He may feel he has to be the bigger man and quit if he can't summon the courage to ride that horse."

"Pa, he's got no reason to do that," Joe said.

"Hasn't he?" Ben inquired pointedly, "Or is that exactly what he would do if he found he couldn't carry out the orders of an employer he respected and liked, saving them the trouble of firing him?"

A worried look came into Joe's eyes, "You don't really think he'd do that, do you?"

Ben sighed and sat back in his chair, "Candy is unpredictable in a lot of ways. At first I had difficulty in trusting him. I doubted his honesty, and his reliability. But he volunteered to ride point with you on that trip, and he did a lot to help Hoss keep Wabuska in line. He could have taken off that first night after he got what he came for. He claimed it was safer in a group, but we both know he travels faster and more efficiently by himself. No, he stayed for our sake, not his own. He knew exactly what he was doing, and most of our group was woefully unprepared for the assignment. It was a big risk, sticking by us, but he did it. I decided any man like that was worth having around, even if I didn't know much about his background," Ben sighed again, "But I honestly don't know what he'll decide to do tomorrow."

Joe frowned and thought it over, then said, "Well, I guess we'll see, won't we?"

* * *

The next morning, after a rough night of sleep, Joe had made a decision of his own. He got up early, just as the first gray light of dawn was touching down. He went to the barn first, and found Cochise awake and ready, seeming to know that something was up.

The little black and white pinto nickered a welcome and tried to shove his muzzle in Joe's jacket pocket. Joe laughed and offered the horse a piece of sugar he'd put in his pocket before coming out to the barn. Cochise munched happily while Joe stroked him and checked him over to make sure he was as sound this morning as he'd been the night before.

"Easy, Cooch, you may not have much to do today, or you may have a lot," Joe said, rubbing the horse's neck, "I don't know yet."

After taking care of Cochise, Joe went around back to the corral where Firebrand was staying temporarily. The big bay neighed at sight of him and came cantering over.

Though a little more scarred than when Joe had first seen him, Firebrand was still a magnificent sight to behold. Tall, long and lean, he was a horse built to run, and it showed in his every line; from his high crest to his powerful shoulders and deep chest, down his short back and strong hind limbs, he was a horse built to be one of the fastest things on four legs.

Firebrand stretched his dark head over the top rail of the corral fence, searching for a treat. Joe offered him the other piece of sugar he'd been carrying, and Firebrand took it gently, barely brushing the skin of Joe's hand with his long whiskers. Joe cared for Firebrand, and then went back to saddle Cochise.

He led the pinto out of the barn and tied him to the hitching post, then went to tack up Firebrand. Firebrand stood quietly throughout the process, and allowed himself to be led from the corral. He balked a little at being placed beside Cochise, but a few words from Joe quieted him.

Hearing the door open, Joe looked over his shoulder.

"You're up early," Ben remarked to his son, "Just what are you planning to do?"

"Well, Pa, I intend to ride out to that flat, straight stretch between here and the north pasture, just like we talked about."

"I see," Ben said, "And then what?"

"I guess I'll wait there for Mr. Beckett," Joe replied, "Some of the ranch hands are bound to be out there. I know a few who are always up for seeing a fine horse run. I plan to give them a good show."

"Before breakfast?" Ben inquired.

"I'm not hungry," Joe told him, "And besides, it's not good to gallop a horse on a full stomach anyway."

"I never thought I'd hear one of my boys claim not to be hungry," Ben said, "And I suppose you'll be riding that horse?" he indicated Firebrand with a tilt of his head.

"Well I ought to," Joe answered, "I thought it over, and it's what Mr. Beckett wanted."

"And have you told Candy?" Ben asked.

"He'll be out there, Pa. I'll tell him then."

"I see," Ben repeated.

Joe really wished he'd quit saying that.

Instead of answering, he mounted Cochise and took hold of Firebrand's reins.

"Well, Hoss and I will see you out there," Ben said, " _After_ breakfast."

"Sure thing, Pa," Joe replied.

He turned Cochise away from the hitching post and nudged the horse's sides. The pinto started forward, with the bay following along behind uneasily.

It was a short ride out to the place Joe had mentioned and, like he'd expected, there were about half a dozen men gathered around already. Not all of them were Ponderosa hands, some were men from town who wanted to see the Firebrand that had caused so much trouble. Mr. Beckett had talked about the horse endlessly before ever seeing him, and they wanted to see the animal for themselves.

Next to little Cochise, Firebrand looked like a giant. Cochise's short, jerky strides emphasized the smoothness of Firebrand's. The stallion carried his head high, surveying the crowd with a flicker of his old arrogance. Somehow he sensed that this was a very special day, and that he was the focus of all that attention. He arched his neck and pranced a few paces, showing off.

Looking around, Joe was concerned not to see any sign of Candy. He wondered if he'd asked too much of the man. None of these men knew Candy was meant to be Firebrand's rider, but from Candy's perspective it would be like publicly showing cowardice to come here and tell Joe that he couldn't ride Firebrand. It was probably too much and he'd just stayed home, too embarrassed to even show up. Joe felt guilty about that, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Pulled to a short stop, Cochise executed a half-rear, tucking his forelegs up under him as he did so in his old way. To Joe's surprise, Firebrand followed suit, mimicking Cochise's movement exactly, though it had to be admitted that he looked a lot more impressive when he did it than Cochise did.

Lifting his muzzle and taking in all the people and horses, Firebrand's nostrils dilated and he rolled his eyes a little. Joe felt the first twinge of doubt about the horse. Possibly this was too much excitement. If he became overstimulated, Firebrand might revert to his former aggressive self. Joe kept a quiet hand on him, and let him look around while more riders showed up, eventually including his father, Hoss and David Beckett on his favorite old roan cow pony.

"Mornin', Joe," Mr. Beckett said, bringing his pony to a stop beside Cochise, "I see Firebrand's all ready to go. What about that ranch hand you wanted to ride him?"

"Well, sir, I thought about it," Joe said slowly, "And I realized maybe you had a good reason for wanting me to ride him. I figured, why not give it a try?"

"Whichever is fine with me," Mr. Beckett replied, "But if something doesn't feel right, I want you to stop immediately. I don't want you being hurt on account of any horse of mine."

"No sir," Joe replied, "I don't intend to be."

Mr. Beckett turned his horse and rode over to where Ben was watching from Buck's back. Ben looked worried.

Having settled Firebrand as much as he thought he could, Joe rode over to where Hoss was and dismounted Cochise while Hoss held Firebrand's reins.

"Hang onto Cochise for me," Joe said, handing his pinto over.

From the ground, Firebrand looked a lot bigger, and especially now he stood beside Chub and Joe saw the finely bred bay was a hand taller than Hoss' dark brown gelding, though not a great deal heavier. Joe had stood beside Firebrand many times before, but only now did it finally come home to roost that he was a _big_ horse, and mostly legs. If Firebrand took off, there would be no one in the world who could catch him, certainly nobody here could. If Joe was knocked off while the horse ran, he'd be dead on impact, no two ways about it.

Firebrand shied a little as a fly buzzed around his eyes, dancing on his toes and tossing his head. Hoss held onto him and he quieted, but in the dark of his eyes Joe saw the spark of fire that had formerly burned bright enough to kill. He felt his courage faltering for a moment and, for the first time in his life, he hesitated to get up on a horse's back.

Then he swallowed his fear, stuck his foot in the stirrup and heaved himself the seemingly endless distance up onto Firebrand's broad back. He'd never been on top of the stallion before. He wondered if anyone had been, despite what David Beckett had been told about the horse being trained.

Firebrand snorted and danced, making a brief attempt to rear.

"Whoa, easy there," Joe said, leaning forward and touching the horse's neck while Hoss continued to hold the reins, "Easy, you're alright. I'm no stranger to you."

Firebrand blew through his nose, shifting his weight back and forth from one pair of feet to another, but his ears turned to catch the sound of his rider's voice.

"Easy," Joe said, "You've seen me up on Cooch a lot of times. This won't be any different," Joe said softly to the horse, at the same time quietly taking the reins from a clearly nervous Hoss.

Hoss and Joe's eyes briefly met. They both knew only too well that Joe's mother had died being thrown from a horse. Joe was the best rider of any of them, but in the back of their minds there was ever the memory of Marie. Even though Joe had been too young to remember, he knew the story. He knew why he saw concern bordering on fear in his father's eyes, and why his father often was nowhere to be found when Joe was trying to break a bronc of bucking. It was too terrible for him to witness, but he knew he should not stand in Joe's way. Joe understood.

Now free from Hoss, Firebrand crab-stepped, lifting his head high and flattening his ears.

"Whoa," Joe continued to croon to the horse, doing nothing to make him feel restricted, letting the horse move easily beneath him, letting his own stillness and calm settle on the stallion, "Easy, big fella."

The sound of hooves on the road distracted Joe and he looked up to see who was coming. It was Candy. Seeing Joe on Firebrand, he reined his chestnut to a stop well away, so as not to upset Firebrand.

Testing his control, Joe turned Firebrand and started him towards where Candy was waiting. The big horse felt massive when he moved, not as light or bouncing as Cochise, and not at all placid like a draft horse would be, but high-strung and ready to go off like a lit stick of dynamite. But he behaved himself, and stopped smoothly alongside Candy's horse.

"I guess I'm a little late," Candy observed, looking warily at Firebrand.

"No, I'd say you're right on time," Joe replied, "Firebrand needs a horse to run against."

"There's not a horse here that could make a race of it," Candy said.

"Maybe not," Joe said, "But I know your horse would sure give it a good try. Better'n Cochise anyway. Cochise doesn't care so much about moving as part of a herd as your horse."

"I suppose that's true," Candy replied, appearing to relax a fraction, "But you wouldn't want to ride him. Not when you've got Cochise around and feeling frisky like he is."

"That's true," Joe said sensibly, "Which is why I'm not riding him. You are."

"Oh?" Candy inquired.

"And I'm riding Firebrand," Joe concluded.

"Really."

"Oh yeah," Joe told him, "Now, starting line's back there apiece. Let's go."

Candy backed his horse up out of Firebrand's way, and then he followed Joe down the road a short distance. The objective wasn't just to test Firebrand out, but to show him off. Joe wanted the bay up to speed by the time he shot past the spectators. He suspected Candy's chestnut wouldn't be able to hold out against Firebrand for more than a couple of strides, but he didn't really need to.

"I'm gonna hold him back if I can," Joe said, "I want to see how he goes alongside another horse at a gallop. Then I'll let him out and see how much speed he's really got to offer with a rider on his back."

It was well known that a horse who could run loose wasn't always good once under a rider. It was possible that Firebrand would refuse to run at all, or that he might buck, or that he might bolt. He could throw his rider, lose his footing in a panic and fall on him, run off the road, anything. Anything could happen, and Joe expected that it would, in the next sixty seconds.

"Try and stay with us as long as you can," Joe said, "But don't hurt your horse doin' it."

Focusing on Firebrand, Joe nonetheless noticed that Cochise had lifted his head, and was watching intently. Joe had raced casually with Cochise before, and also raced for his life from atop the little horse, who was faster than he looked, though he still couldn't hope to match Firebrand in speed. Cochise flared his nostrils and took intense interest in what was going on. He sensed the tension and excitement in the small crowd, and he'd also picked up on his master's nervousness. Cochise whinnied uneasily, but Joe didn't answer him because he was busy with Firebrand, who was shifting around, refusing to stand still.

Candy reached down and caught Firebrand's reins until he quieted again. Then he let go, and sidled his horse away from Firebrand so they wouldn't interfere with each other.

"Ready?" Joe asked.

"No," Candy replied, with a somewhat nervous looking grin.

"Then let's go," Joe said, and gave Firebrand a kick in the sides.

Firebrand reared, striking up at the sky with his forelegs and causing Candy's chestnut to shy. He came down on all fours and Joe felt a great lurch as the stallion surged forward. The black mane flew back from the horse's neck and whipped Joe's face, blinding him as the stallion thundered forward.


	14. A Thunder of Flame

**_Author's Note:_** _ **Hope you all enjoyed the story (and this final chapter), thanks for reading (and reviewing), goodnight everybody.**_

* * *

The stunning burst of speed had Joe fumbling with the reins for a moment, struggling to hold Firebrand back. The stallion fought with the bit, furious at being held in. But he didn't buck, he didn't kick, he only pulled hard against the bit and tried to take it in his teeth so he could run with it. It took everything Joe had not to let him.

Despite having shied away a moment before, Candy's horse was game to try and keep up with the powerful Firebrand. The chestnut got up to speed faster than the dark bay stallion, and soon Joe could see him galloping on the left side of them out of the corner of his eye. Though the wind must have been roaring by his ears, the only thing Joe could hear was the thunder of hooves beneath him.

Joe checked the road ahead, which was still clear, as it should have been. The gathered crowd was split into two groups on either side. Candy rode beside him, the chestnut he was on looking pitifully small from atop the mighty Firebrand. The chestnut didn't challenge Firebrand's lead, but stayed right with him as Joe had been hoping. It wouldn't tell them what Firebrand would do in a real race, but the important thing was that he not lash out at the horse or rider going alongside him.

Firebrand dug into the dirt of the road, his strides coming faster and longer with every beat. He seemed to devour the track ahead of him like a hungry flame in a dry forest. If not for the sound of the stallion's hooves striking the earth, Joe might almost believe that he had torn free of gravity's hold and taken flight, he radiated such power and moved with such effortlessness and speed.

Checking over his shoulder, Joe saw the chestnut was losing ground rapidly, though he was struggling heartily to keep up without any urging from his rider, fighting to stay close to the other horse as was his wont. There was no point in holding Firebrand in anymore.

Despite the roar of blood in his ears that prevented him from hearing the whoops and calls of the onlookers, Joe still heard Cochise's defiant neigh, and looked just in time to see the pinto break away from Hoss and lunge onto the road, very nearly in the path of Firebrand. Firebrand didn't even seem to notice Cochise, much less shy from the pinto. If he had, he might have lost his footing or stumbled into the crowd, but he kept his attention on the road ahead and Joe felt a surge as Firebrand began to extend himself, not sparing Cochise so much as a glance as he flashed by.

Cochise turned and came along at a gallop after they passed him. Firebrand had been spooky around Cochise ever since the little pinto had kicked him that second time, and Joe was afraid of what might happen if he saw the horse chasing after him. Looking over his shoulder, Joe saw that Candy was pushing his chestnut to try and catch up with the runaway pinto and get him off the road. Candy knew the danger of spooking Firebrand as well as Joe did. And too, he had to know that Cochise could easily get tangled in his trailing reins and hurt himself. But Cochise neither knew nor cared about either of these things, he just wanted to go for a run and had decided now was as good a time as any. Unless Cochise decided to slow or stop, Candy's chestnut couldn't possibly catch him.

Joe checked over his shoulder again, and saw Cochise was still gaining. The little horse had no rider, and nothing holding him back, and he got up to speed fast.

"Go, Firebrand," Joe whispered, sliding his hand up the horse's neck and urging him faster, " _Go_."

Firebrand responded with a fresh burst of speed. At last Joe felt his breathing coming in deeper, and there was heat on the stallion's neck. Finally he was beginning to exert himself. Amazingly, Cochise was falling behind. For a short time he kept after them, but then it was clear he realized he couldn't catch Firebrand. Looking back, Joe saw Cochise snort and toss his head, slowing his strides until he was only cantering. That gave Candy time to catch up to him and grab hold of his reins. Cochise came to a stop and reared, and then Joe was paying attention to the road ahead again.

He'd let Firebrand go further than he'd intended, and there was a bend in the road. At Joe's cue, Firebrand obeyed the lay of the road and turned with it. Gradually, being careful not to pull him in too hard, Joe drew up the reins. Firebrand still had a lot of go in him, and didn't seem to want to stop, even though he was breathing hard now and sweat stood out on his neck and shoulders.

It was another half mile before Joe could get him turned around. They cantered back, Firebrand impish and kicking his heels playfully, tossing his head and chewing at his bit. Joe realized at that point that he wasn't afraid of Firebrand anymore, that any fight the horse showed now was merely in play, with no deadly intent.

Back around the bend, Joe found Candy waiting with Cochise. Candy turned the horses around, joined Joe and they cantered back together. He stopped out on the road while Joe rode Firebrand up to where David Beckett had been watching and pulled the horse to a stop.

"Well?" Joe asked breathlessly, his pulse still pounding in his veins.

Mr. Beckett's eyes shone, "He's everything I thought he'd be. When I heard that he'd suddenly changed his attitude, I was afraid he might have lost his racing spirit, but I see he hasn't. I've never seen a horse run like that. Once he got underway, nothing could distract him or hold him back. Like the wind itself, if it had form."

Mr. Beckett continued to babble about the horse using more picturesque phrasing Joe chose not to listen too closely to, and Joe looked over his shoulder to see that Candy was grinning at him. They exchanged sighs of relief, and Joe turned back to Mr. Beckett.

Joe patted the horse's sweaty neck and said, "He's a fine animal, Mr. Beckett, worth every penny you paid for him. It was an honor to ride him."

"Not as much as it is to own him," Mr. Beckett replied, "Joseph, if you wouldn't mind cooling him out? He looks like he could use it."

"I thought I'd leave that to Candy," Joe said, not wanting to admit that he was shaking like a leaf as the fear he'd been ignoring earlier crashed in and mingled with the relief and excitement of the moment.

"Whatever you say, Joe," Mr. Beckett said.

Joe slid down off of Firebrand's back and leaned against the horse for a moment until he was sure his legs could hold him up. Then he turned the horse around and passed the reins to Candy, at the same time taking over custody of Cochise.

"Make sure he cools out alright," Joe instructed, "Then bring him back."

"Sure," Candy said.

While Candy rode off with Firebrand in tow, Joe took a few deep breaths and leaned against Cochise, trying to regain his composure. He saw that his father and Hoss were very much relieved it had all worked out. They had known the danger of the act as much as Joe had, and had known equally that it had to be done, though they hadn't expected Cochise to get loose.

"Y'know, Little Joe," Hoss said, "You really should take better of your horse's bridle," he tossed Joe a scrap of rein that had snapped when Cochise took off, "That one looks so frayed it's almost like somebody took a knife to it to make sure it'd break."

"Now who'd want to go and do a thing like that?" Ben asked, casting a suspicious glance at Joe.

"It was a test he had to pass," Joe replied evenly, avoiding their eyes, "Firebrand's been shying away from Cooch ever since he got kicked. Since Candy wasn't riding Firebrand, I had to set it up so Cochise would get in the race on his own. I knew neither of you would have let me do it-"

"We sure wouldn't," Hoss broke in, but Joe ignored him.

"So I set it up so Cochise would get loose on his own. I had to make sure the reins snapped where I'd cut them so Cochise wouldn't trip himself up, so I handed him off to Hoss," Joe finished.

"That was a big risk you took," Ben said, sounding a bit angry, "Not only with your life, but the lives of two horses, one of which is not yours."

"Yeah well, it had to be done, Pa," Joe said defiantly, "And I couldn't ask anybody to do it for me."

"You really think it was that important?" Hoss inquired skeptically.

"I think it was absolutely essential to proving Firebrand's a reformed horse, that he can be trusted now. And that..." Joe stammered, dropping his gaze, then forging on, "That nobody needs to be afraid of him. Not anymore... _never_... never again," he looked up at his father, seeking approval, or at least understanding.

Ben didn't want to understand. He wanted to continue being angry with his son for being so reckless, for taking such an enormous risk. But the trouble was that he did understand. What was more, he realized that it was he who'd set Joe onto the idea to begin with. Joe hadn't been trying to prove anything to himself or to David Beckett. What Joe had done, he'd done for the sake of his friend, who could not do it for himself.

Ben wondered if it would be enough.

* * *

Firebrand was at last in the hands of his rightful owner. Far as Candy was concerned, it wasn't a moment too soon. That horse had done nothing but cause trouble one way or another from the moment Candy and Joe had first picked him up. It had been one thing after another, and Candy figured he was lucky to still have a job at the end of it all.

He knew he was fortunate that Mr. Cartwright didn't blame him for Joe's being shot or the horse being lost in the first place. If anything had happened to Joe riding Firebrand when it had been Candy who was supposed to be up on the horse, Candy didn't know what he would have done.

Run, probably. That's what he'd always done before when he had a problem.

He wondered if he should do that now. Even though Joe hadn't been hurt, the fact remained that he could have been. Candy had seen the fear in Mr. Cartwright's eyes, and he knew fear could turn to anger fast. Candy had been told to ride that horse, and instead Mr. Cartwright's youngest son had been on him, and nearly been killed while he was at it. Everything had turned out alright, but Mr. Cartwright was a perceptive enough man to know how wrong it could have gone. If he held Candy responsible for that... well Candy knew that might put him out of a job.

Candy had cooled out Firebrand as he'd been told, unsaddled him and replaced the bridle with a halter, then led the horse back to where Joe was waiting. He tried to read the expressions of Mr. Cartwright and his sons, but he saw none of the recrimination he'd been expecting. He'd handed the horse off to Mr. Beckett, and then ridden back with the Cartwrights. Everyone else had gone about their business long before he finished cooling Firebrand off. He'd lagged behind on the ride home, but nobody had paid any attention to him. He did notice Joe was riding Cochise a little oddly. Because of the broken reins, Joe was riding him now without a bridle, having replaced it with a hackamore made from the lariat the horse had been carrying on his saddle.

After the excitement of the morning, the rest of the day went as such days always did. Candy was assigned to go out and mend a fence that had been knocked down in the south pasture. He wasn't sure if he should be reassured by that or not. Though he knew Mr. Cartwright wasn't stingy with his money, he couldn't help but wonder if the man didn't want to give him his last day's pay for less than a day's work.

His fear was such that, in the evening after hours, he was half-packed with a mind to slip out in the night. Payday had been less than a week ago, he hadn't accumulated much in the way of wages since. It would be easier if he just up and left. But then he realized he had to face Mr. Cartwright. The man would respect him no other way, and for reasons he was unable to fathom it was and had always been important to him what Mr. Cartwright thought of him.

Reluctantly, he went to the house and knocked. Mr. Cartwright answered the door, seeming surprised to see him. Mr. Cartwright invited him in, and Candy entered the house and stood fidgeting with his hat in his hands, not able to fully look his boss in the eye.

"Candy, what is it?" Mr. Cartwright asked, looking somewhat concerned by his behavior, "Is something wrong?"

"Mr. Cartwright I..." Candy faltered, then forged on, making himself look Mr. Cartwright in the eye as he spoke, "I came to apologize. I was supposed to be up on that horse. Because I wasn't, Joe could've been killed. I..." he dropped his gaze, "I have no excuse."

"The way I understand it," Mr. Cartwright said, moving to sit on the edge of his desk, "That was Joe's decision. And David _did_ originally request that Joe ride Firebrand for him."

"Yes sir, I know," Candy said, staying where he stood and continuing to study the floor, "But I think he did it because... because I wasn't brave enough to. I thought I could be, but when the time came... I couldn't move. That's... why I was late," he looked briefly at Mr. Cartwright, then back at the floor.

"Candy," Mr. Cartwright said, and something in the way he said the name made Candy look up, "Not all fears are meant to be conquered. Even if you couldn't get on Firebrand's back, you did lead him home. After Joe's ride, you took Firebrand away, cooled him out, groomed and cared for him, just as you were asked to. I don't see how that could have been an easy thing to do. But you did it."

"But I didn't ride him," Candy protested.

"No, you didn't. You couldn't," Mr. Cartwright said, his voice gentle, "No more than I can ever stop being afraid of Joe riding the way he does, fast and reckless. But I don't stop him. And you didn't run away. I know you didn't come out there to race against Joe. When you got there, you meant to ride Firebrand if it killed you."

"But I didn't," Candy reminded him again.

"Because it probably would have killed you, and Joe knew it," Mr. Cartwright replied, "Firebrand needs a steady, experienced rider, one who doesn't know _how_ to be afraid of a horse," he shook his head, looking almost regretful, "Joe's never been afraid of a horse in his life, even when it would have been good and sensible for him to be. There's no horse he wouldn't ride, no stunt he wouldn't be willing to pull from the back of one. But you... you've got a sense of self-preservation, an instinct for survival. In this case, it could have made you hesitate, and at the wrong moment that could have gotten you killed. You knew it, and that's why you didn't want to ride Firebrand. Joe knew it too."

"You're... not angry with me?" Candy inquired doubtfully.

"What have I got to be angry about?" Mr. Cartwright asked, "Ever since you've been here, you have... at every opportunity proven yourself to be worth more than the thirty dollars a month we pay you. You've stood by Joseph in fights, and you went with him to Angelus. You've never disobeyed an order I gave you, even though sometimes you argued against it. You've proven trustworthy at carrying the payroll and you can ride with the best of them."

Candy shuffled his feet, looking at the floor again, embarrassed by the praise.

"Do you think that, after all you've done for this ranch and my family, I could really fire you just for not being able to ride one horse?" Mr. Cartwright asked, "Do you really think I'm that cruel? That stupid?"

Candy looked up, surprised and horrified by the questions, "No, Mr. Cartwright," he answered when he could find his voice, "I've never met a man who was fair like you are. You're always willing to give people a chance, even if they don't seem to deserve one. You've been very good to me."

"And yet you think I'd turn on you at the drop of a hat," Mr. Cartwright said, raising an eyebrow.

Candy swallowed, couldn't find anything to say, and resumed looking at the floor.

"You really don't think you're worth much, do you?"

Candy looked up, and this time found himself unable to break Mr. Cartwright's stern gaze. Unable to find his voice, he just stood awkwardly, staring at Mr. Cartwright, not moving or saying anything. He could hear the unasked question. Mr. Cartwright was dying to ask him what had happened to him, how he had come to be this way. But to his immense relief and gratitude, the man was too polite for that.

"Well," Mr. Cartwright said, when it was clear Candy wouldn't or couldn't respond, "Looking over the work you've done this past month, in addition to all you've done before, I realize now that it's time to give you a raise."

 _That_ got Candy's attention. He started at Mr. Cartwright, sure it had to be some kind of joke, or that he'd misheard, or something.

"How does thirty two dollars a month sound?" Mr. Cartwright asked, sounding quite serious.

Candy knew a two dollar raise was a pretty significant one, one he didn't feel as if he'd earned. But he also knew that Mr. Cartwright was not a foolish man, and was careful with his money and how he used it. And he knew the man would never make a joke like this. He was serious. He meant it.

And Candy was wiser than to argue with him.

"If you think that's fair," Candy managed to make his voice audible for that sentence, then was silent again.

"Alright," Mr. Cartwright said, "Now we've got that settled, it's late. I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I think it's time to turn in."

"Yes sir," Candy replied, "That sounds good to me."

He took that as a dismissal and left, unaware that Ben was smiling after him, wondering what it took to make a man like Candy. Sighing, he shook his head and resigned himself to the knowledge that he would probably never know. He would never ask, and like as not Candy would never tell, certainly not if nobody asked him. Ben supposed in the end it didn't matter. What mattered was what sort of man Candy was turning into.

The man Ben had met last year would have packed his belongings and run out in the night. He would never have ridden out to try and summon the courage to get up on Firebrand, much less come here to apologize. He'd have cut and run, not out of cowardice but because of an instinct for survival that had been honed to a fine edge by experience with people he could not trust, and who did not trust him. But something about him had changed. Something about seeing how people lived, taking responsibility, treating each other fairly, being good to each other... it was getting to him. Not for the first time, Ben wondered just how much a man could change.

He supposed if Firebrand could turn from wolf to lamb, anything was possible.

"I heard most of that," Joe said, coming down the stairs, "I wonder what makes a man that way. You know, I think he's more afraid of you than he is of Firebrand."

"I know he is," Ben told him, "That's what drove him to ride out there this morning."

Joe frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "You know, _I_ _was_ afraid of Firebrand."

"I know," Ben replied, "And I think Candy does too."

"Then why say otherwise?" Joe asked.

"Because," Ben answered, "He needed to hear it."

"Even if he knew it wasn't true?" Joe wanted to know.

"Especially so," Ben said, "It told him something he needed to know, something he couldn't believe, even if I said it straight out to him," at Joe's puzzled look, he explained, "It told him that I care about him, how he feels inside, not just about what he can do for me."

"I don't get it," Joe admitted.

"I know," Ben said, "But Candy does. And that's what matters now."

"Think he'll stay on?" Joe asked.

"For now, son," Ben replied, "For now."

* * *

It was once again a clear, sunny day. A cool morning breeze was stirring the trees, birds were calling to one another from their shivering branches. The brightness of the sun was kept in check by the shade provided by the trees Joe had known his whole life. On either side of the road, the mighty pine trees stretched towards the blue sky, standing like watching sentinels, guarding the place Joe called home.

Beneath him, Cochise had adopted a rocking gait, seeming to roll down the road instead of trotting. He tucked his nose to his chest and arched his neck, flicking his tail side to side in time with his hoof beats, playing with the bit in his teeth and asking for more rein.

Funny, it seemed like no time at all since his last cattle drive, but here he was again, with his black and white pinto dancing under him, ready to ride for pleasure or work, whichever his master deemed appropriate, and his friend riding beside him, seeming to be enjoying the day as much as Joe was.

As Joe's father had anticipated, Candy had stayed on. Glancing over at Candy, Joe found it easy to imagine that nothing had happened, that neither of them had been shot or nearly lost their lives over a horse that didn't even belong to them. It was easy to pretend that they were just a rancher's son and a cowhand, and that they had a friendship based on nothing deeper than sharing a drink in the local saloon, and the shared experience of having eaten more trail dust than any man should.

But underneath the ordinary, Joe knew that they had something extraordinary. Not just between them as friends, but in even being where they were, in being able to live in this great big country with its wide open spaces, with often nary a fence in sight. Joe knew he was incredibly lucky. For him, the Ponderosa wasn't just home, for him it had simply... always been. He had been born here, and though he had traveled far, he knew there was no other place for him, nowhere he'd rather be.

To ride the roads belonging to his father, which his father had built with his own sweat and blood and would some day leave to his sons, to look around and know that everything in sight belonged to his family, it was a feeling Joe knew that most people never got to experience, and which they could therefore never understand.

Cochise shook his head impatiently, and Joe finally relented.

"Alright, go," Joe said, letting the reins slip through his fingers until his horse could extend his neck fully. He leaned forward and gave Cochise a tap in the sides, and the pinto exploded forward as though shot from a cannon.

Joe heard the startled neigh of Candy's horse, and knew the hand was reining the chestnut in, preventing him from chasing after the explosively accelerating Cochise.

After having ridden Firebrand, Cochise's strides felt short, choppy and notably bound to earth, but Joe could not have been more comfortable anywhere other than on his pinto's back. Through the saddle, Joe felt the shift and pull of the horse's muscles as he ran. Joe felt the horse's pulse pound through the hand he laid on the animal's neck, while the pinto's black mane with its small section of white near the base of his neck whipped back and struck Joe's face and arms as he thundered along. Cochise's nostrils widened and he took deeper breaths, streaking down the road towards the pasture where there would be cattle waiting to be herded, ranch hands looking for the signal to move along, and a chuck wagon to follow. Cochise seemed like he couldn't wait to get there.

At the first touch of the reins, Cochise slid to a stop on a hill, neighing and half-rearing in his usual way. Joe turned him and looked back along the road, and saw that Candy's horse had stepped up to a smooth canter in order to catch up quickly. He came to an easy stop where Joe waited.

"You know, if you keep spending your horse and your energy like that, someone's going to have to carry you home," Candy remarked with a grin, "And I don't get paid enough for that."

"What? You just got a raise, didn't you?" Joe asked, feigning indignation, "That's gratitude for you."

"What gratitude?" Candy shot back, still grinning, "Your father said I earned that raise."

"And just think what you could earn if you carried me home on your back," Joe replied.

"You and that horse," Candy shook his head, amused.

"At least _my_ horse has a name," Joe informed him.

"My horse has a name," Candy insisted.

"Oh really? Then what is it?"

But Candy didn't answer; he'd already started his horse down the other side of the hill.

"Hey, wait for me!" Joe cried, kicking Cochise into a canter.

Obediently, Candy slowed his horse enough for Joe to catch up. Then the two friends rode on together, side by each, as good friends do.

* * *

 _"Have you given the horse strength? Have you clothed his neck with thunder?  
Can you frighten him like a locust? His majestic snorting strikes terror.  
He paws in the valley, and rejoices in his strength; he gallops into the clash of arms.  
He mocks at fear, and is not frightened; nor does he turn back from the sword." _

_-Job 39:19-22 (NKJV)_


End file.
